LIBRARY 

BUREAU or EDUCATION 







fi— 1132 



THE 



THEORY OF TEACHING 



AND 



ELEMENTARY PSYCHOLOGY 



^£H.^H I ^r c 



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'f.: 



ALBERT SALISBURY, Ph.D. 

FEBSIDBNT OF THE STATE NORMAL SCHOOL, WHITEWATER, WIS. 



CHICAGO 
ROW, PETERSON & CO. 

1907 



COPYRIGHT, 1905 

BY 

ALBERT SALISBURY 









PREFACE 

This treatise, if such it may be called, is professedly of 
a rudimentary character; it is designed for beginners in 
the study of educational psychology and pedagogy. Its 
purpose is only to lay a foundation for such study, to 
open up the subject and give the student the necessary 
tools for working the field of pedagogical thought. 

For nearly twenty years, the writer has taken in hand, 
twice in each year, a class of pupils in the second year of 
the normal school course with this purpose of inducting 
them into the elements of pedagogical theory. Finding 
no text-book in existence suitable to his view of such an 
undertaking, he was compelled to give the instruction 
in an oral, *'Socratic," conversational manner, using 
books only for occasional reference. The time has now 
come, as it seems to him, for reducing this work to 
written form, with a view to economizing the time of 
future pupils, and in the hope that it may serve a useful 
purpose to young teachers in their daily work or as mem- 
bers of circles for profess-ional reading and study. 

The peculiar form and arrangement given to the matter 
of this book are thus the outgrowth of long experience 
and direct contact with students as yet unused to intro- 
spection or to abstract thought. The writer, as a teacher, 
has sought continually to find the natural methods of 
approach and the natural lines of progress in the develop- 
ment of a pedagogical attitude of mind, without too 
much regard to traditional modes, and yet with a careful 
avoidance of eccentricity or intentional novelty. Clear- 
ness and conciseness have been a constant aim. 



IV PREFACE 

A fatal defect with most, if not all, text-books on psy- 
chology as yet offered to the public is found in the fact 
that their authors are always, unconsciously, talking to 
other psychologists and never to tyros. They seem uni- 
formly unable to conceive the real condition of mind in 
which students in normal schools and high schools come 
to their first contact with any study of their own minds 
or the laws of mental activity; and so they proceed to 
submerge the young people in depths of incomprehension 
and bewilderment. Another fault common in works of 
this sort is the dryness and opacity due to dearth of ade- 
quate and pertinent illustration. The author hopes that 
he has been successful in avoiding these sins, whatever 
other mistakes he may have fallen into. 

All rational pedagogy looks to psychology for its guid- 
ing principles, but not to psychology alone. The laws of 
mental growth are laws of teaching; but psychology rests 
back on physiology and leads forward into logic and 
ethics. A proper introduction to the principles of teach 
ing involves, therefore, considerable familiarity with thu 
physiology of the nervous system as a necessary prelimi^ 
nary to the comprehension and application of psycho- 
logical laws. lb also involves some acquaintance with 
elementary logic, a truth too often overlooked in the 
training of teachers. There has been no effort in this 
work to keep the physiology, the psychology, and the 
logic separate and distinct; indeed, a contrary purpose 
has prevailed. Whether the "blend" has been success- 
fully effected, it remains for the reader to decide. 

It has not been thought necessary to put everything 
into the book that ought to go into the mind of the 
student. Much has intentionally been left to the teacher. 
The several paragraphs, or sections, are rather in the 
nature of texts than of complete discourses. It is hoped 



PREFACE V 

that whoever teaches the book, including leaders of read- 
ing circles, may keep this fact clearly in mind. Nor has 
it been thought needful to load the ciiapters up with 
bibliographies. Each teacher will be able to furnish his 
own, adjusted to the material Avhich is accessible to his 
class. 

It is believed that the book is well suited as a text-book 
in either theory of teaching or elementary psychology. 
High school classes wishing a brief course in psychology 
without definite reference to teaching may omit Parts I 
and III, using only Part II. On the other hand, pros- 
pective teachers will cover the whole book in regular 
order, Part III furnishing not only the pedagogical appli- 
cation of what 2^1'ecedes, but also an effective review of 
Part II. Pupils already well versed in psychology can 
omit Part II as far as Chapter XXIV. But Chapters 
XXIV and XXVI, on Language and General Method, 
should not be omitted under any circumstances. 

Special acknowledgment is hereby made to Dr. J. W. 
Stearns, late of the University of Wisconsin, for valued 
service in reading the whole work in manuscript and 
making useful criticisms and suggestions. Similar service 
was rendered by my assistant in psychology. Prof. H. H. 
Schroeder. Acknowledgment is also made of the kind- 
ness of D. C. Heath & Co., in permitting the use of 
several cuts from Colton^s Briefer Physiology^ and of 
Ginn & Co., in allowing the use of cuts from BlaisdelVs 
Practical Physiology, 

Whitewater, Wis., 

January, 1905 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



PART I. INTRODUCTORY 

CHAPTER I 

What Theory Means 

PAGE 

What Theory Means 1 

Scientific Use of the Term 2 

Distinction between Hypothesis and Theory 3 

Theory and Practice 3 

Scope of the Term Illustrated 4 

Why Study the Theory of Teaching? 4 

Summary 5 

CHAPTER II 

Education, Its Nature and End 

The Derivation of the Term 6 

What Development Means 6 

The Factors of Education 7 

The End of Education 8 

Other Statements of the End 9 

Mental Symmetry as an End 10 

The Objects of a School 10 

Summary 11 

CHAPTER III 

The Teacher's Material: Mind 

The Teacher Must Know His Material 12 

Peculiarity of the Teacher's Material. 12 

What the Teacher Needs to Know , 13 

Summary 14 

vii 



Vlll TABLE OF CONTENTS 

PART II. ELEMENTARY PSYCHOLOGY AND 

LOGIC 

CHAPTER IV 

The Nature of Mind 

PAGE 

What is Mind? 15 

What Matter and Mind Do 15 

Knowing, Feeling, and WiUing 16 

Consciousness 17 

Connection of Mind and Body 17 

Psychology 18 

Summary 19 

CHAPTER V 
How Knowledge Begins 

Mental Status of the New-boni Babe 20 

The Helplessness of Infancy , • • • • 20 

The First Consciousness 21 

The First Intellectual Activity 22 

The Sources of Knowledge : 22 

Self-Consciousness as a Source of Knowledge 23 

Summary 24 

CHAPTER VI 
The Nervous Mechanism 

Sensation the Starting Point of Consciousness 25 

The Physical Basis of Sensation 25 

The Brain 26 

Nerves 27 

The Spinal Cord • 29 

Summary 29 

CHAPTER VII 

The Nervous Mechanism {Continued) 

Elements of the Nervous Mechanism 31 

Nerve Centers ■ . . , 31 

Nerve Ends , , , . • 32 



TABLE OF CONTENTS IX 

PAGE 

The Stimulation of Nerve Ends 32 

The Discharge of Nerve Centers 33 

Neurones 34 

Axones 35 

Summary 37 

CHAPTER VIII 

Reflex Action 

The Nerve Circuit 38 

Reflex Action 38 

Reflex Action in Man 3£ 

Common Misconceptions 4G 

Spontaneous, or Impulsive, Action 41 

Summary 41 

CHAPTER IX 

Sensation 

Sensation 42 

The Conditions of Sensation 42 

The Threshold of Sensation 43 

Quantity and Quality of Sensation 43 

The Senses 44 

Summary. . , , 45 

CHAPTER X 

The Body-Serving Senses 

Organic Sensations 46 

The Thermal Sense 47 

The Sense of Taste 47 

Smell '. . 48 

Confusion of Taste and Smell 50 

Uses of Taste and Smell 60 

Summary j 51 

CHAPTER XI 
The Knowledge-Giving Senses 

The Muscular Sense 52 

Ideas Derived from Muscular Sensations 53 



X TABLE OF COKTENTS 

PAGE 

The Sense of Touch 53 

Intellectual Service of the Sense of Touch 54 

Localization of Tactile Sensations 55 

Active Touch 56 

Summary 56 

CHAPTER XII 
The Sense of Hearing 

The Organ of Hearing 58 

The Inner Ear 58 

The Cochlea 60 

The Physical Process of Hearing 61 

The Physics of Sound 62 

The Properties of Tone 62 

Ideas Given by Hearing 63 

How Hearing Serves the Mind 64 

Summary 64 

CHAPTER XIII 
The Sense of Sight 

The Organ of Sight 66 

The Retina 66 

The Stimulation of the Retina 68 

Accommodation . . 69 

The Muscles of the Eyeball 70 

Sensations of Sight 70 

Muscular Sensations of the Eye 70 

Ideas Derived from Sight 71 

Ideas of Distance 72 

Ideas of Solid Form 73 

Another Retinal Sign of Solidity 74 

Inversion of the Retinal Image 74 

After-images 76 

Summary 77 

Tabular Outline of the Senses 78 

CHAPTER XIV 

Sense Defects 

The Limitations of the Blind 80 

The Limitations of the Deaf 81 



TABLE OF CONTENTS XI 

PAGE 

Partial Defects of Vision 81 

Color Blindness 82 

Partial Defects of Hearing 83 

The Blind-Deaf 84 

Summary 85 

CHAPTER XV 
Perception 

Sensation and Perception . . , 86 

The Process of Perception , 86 

The Perceptive Act Illustrated 87 

Perception Further Characterized 88 

Pure Sensations 89 

Illusions 90 

Training in Perception 90 

Summary o . . . . 92 

CHAPTER XVI 
Attention 

The Distribution of Consciousness 93 

Attention Defined 93 

Conditions of Attention 94 

Interest 95 

Kinds of Attention 96 

Voluntary Attention , 96 

Choice of Interests 97 

Summary 98 

CHAPTER XVII 
Memory 

Representation 99 

Phases of the Memory Process 100 

Retention Defined 101 

Nature of the Brain Changes 101 

The Conditions of Retention 102 

Reproduction 102 

Association 103 

Law oi Cause and Effect 104 

Law of Similarity 104 



xii TABLE OF CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Law of Contrast 105 

The Place of Association by Contiguity, . 105 

Association in Learning to Read 106 

The Higher Forms of Association 107 

Breadth of Association 107 

Summary 108 

CHAPTER XVIIl 

Memory {Continued) 

Recognition 110 

Kinds of Memory Ill 

Disparagement of Memory Ill 

Special Memories 112 

Remembrance and Recollection 113 

Mnemonics 114 

Summary 114 

Tabular Outhne of Memory 115 

CHAPTER XIX 
Imagination 

Images 116 

The Process of Imagination 117 

Phases, or Kinds, of Imagination 117 

The Uses of Imagination 118 

Cognitive Imagination 119 

Inventive, or Practical, Imagination 119 

Aesthetic, or Artistic, Imagination 120 

Ethical Imagination 121 

Imagination and Emotion 121 

Imagination in Children 122 

Crudity of Childish Fancy 124 

Dangers of Imagination 124 

Cultivation of Imagination 125 

Summary 127 

CHAPTER XX 
Conception 

The Thought Powers 128 

Concepts 1 29 

The Process of Conception 129 



TABLE OF CONTENTS XIU 

PAGE 

Illustration of the Growth of a Concept 130 

Abstract Notions 130 

Concepts Cannot be Imaged 131 

Concepts Not Fixed in Content 132 

Relations of Concepts: Genus and Species 133 

Intension and Extension 134 

Concepts in Series 135 

Summary 135 

CHAPTER XXI 

Definition and Division 

Definition 137 

The Structure of a Definition 137 

Rules of Definition 138 

Exercise in Applying Rules of Definition 138 

Logical Division 139 

Rules for Division 140 

Summary 140 

CHAPTER XXII 
Judgment 

What We Mean by a Judgment 141 

The Essential Parts, or Elements, of a Judgment 142 

Nature of the Predicate Idea 142 

Classification of Judgments 143 

Exercise in Classification of Judgments 145 

Euler's Notation Further Illustrated 145 

Indistinct Judgments; Their Causes 147 

Relation of Judgment to Other Mental Processes 148 

Relation of Judgment to Conception 149 

Summary 149 

CHAPTER XXIII 

Reasoning 

Reasoning 150 

The Syllogism 150 

Essential Characteristics of Deductive Reasoning 151 

Dangers of Deductive Reasoning 152 

Demonstrative Reasoning 153 

Why Mathematical Reasoning is so Certain in its Results. ... 154 



XIV TABLE OF CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Major Premise May Not be Expressed 154 

How We Come by General Judgments 154 

The Inductive Process 1 55 

The Essential Characteristics of Induction 1 56 

Early Use of Inductive Reasoning 156 

Reasoning by Analogy 157 

Summary 159 

CHAPTER XXIV 
Language 

What Language Is 161 

Division of Language 161 

The Language of Animals 162 

Can We Think Without Words? 163 

Specific Relations of Words to Ideas 164 

The Uses of Language 165 

Limitations of Language 168 

Dangers in the Use of Language 169 

Accuracy in Choice of Words 171 

Putting One's Thought in Various Ways 172 

Summary. 173 

CHAPTER XXV 
Analysis and Synthesis 

Analysis 174 

We Analyze Individuals, Not Classes 175 

Analysis and Synthesis 175 

Analysis a Form of Discrimination 176 

Summary 177 

CHAPTER XXVI 

General Method 

Method. 178 

Method and Manner: Special Methods 178 

One Method of Learning 179 

The Naming of This Method 180 

Another Method of Learning 181 

Names of This Method 182 

The "Complete" Method 183 

Further Illustration of the Two Methods 184 



TABLE OF COKTEifTS XV 

PAGE 

The Place of Inductive Method 186 

Advantages of the Inductive Method 187 

Limitations of the Inductive Method 187 

What is Really Economical 189 

Summary 190 

CHAPTER XXVII 
Habit 

The Basis of Habit 192 

Examples of Plabit 193 

Essential Characteristics of Habit 193 

Difference between Habitual and Reflex Action 194 

Difference between Habit and Instinct 195 

The Effects of Habit on Life 195 

The Bondage of Habit 196 

Summary 199 

CHAPTER XXVIII 

Instinct 

Vagueness in Use of the Term 200 

Instinct Applies Only to Action 200 

Illustration of Instinctive Action 201 

Characteristics of Instinctive Activity 201 

Explanation of Instinctive Activity 203 

Instinct in Man 203 

TransitorinesS of Some Instincts 204 

Summary 204 

CHAPTER XXIX 

The Feelings 

What Feeling Is 206 

Classification of Feelings 206 

The Reflexive Effect of Feeling 207 

The Genesis of Feeling 208 

Different Types of Emotion 209 

The Higher Sentiments 210 

Conscience 211 

Feelings as Motives 212 

Children's Feelings 212 

Summary 214 

Tabular Outline of Feelings 214 



XVI TABLE OF CONTENTS 

PAGE 

CHAPTER XXX 
Will 

What Will Is 216 

Different Types of Action 217 

Voluntary Action 218 

Development of Will through Physical Exercise 219 

Development of Voluntary Control over Ideas and Feelings. . 219 

The Establishment of Character 221 

Summary 222 



PART III. THE PRINCIPLES OF TEACHING 

CHAPTER XXXI 
Mind and Body 225 

CHAPTER XXXII 
Heredity and Environment 231 

CHAPTER XXXIII 
The Law of Habit 235 

CHAPTER XXXIV 
The Law of Self-Activity 241 

CHAPTER XXXV 
The Law of Development 253 

CHAPTER XXXVI 
The Law of Interest 264 

CHAPTER XXXVII 
The Law of Apperception 271 

CHAPTER XXXVIII 
The Law of Presentation 277 

CHAPTER XXXIX 
The Law of Association 280 



TABLE OP CONTENTS XVll 

PAGE 

CHAPTER XL 
Imagination 284 

CHAPTER XLI 
Abstraction and Generalization 287 

CHAPTER XLII 
Description and Explanation '. 291 

CHAPTER XLIII 
Language 294 

CHAPTER XLIV 
The Law of Expression 299 

CHAPTER XLV 
Will 305 

CHAPTER XL VI 
Feeling and Education 307 

CHAPTER XL VII 
Knowledge and Education 311 

CHAPTER XLVIII 
The Art of Study 320 



PART I 

INTRODUCTORY 



CHAPTER I 

WHAT THEORY MEANS 

As already intimated in the preface, it is the purpose 
of this book to serve the ends of teachers and others who 
desire to make an elementary but careful and systematic 
study of the theory of teaching and whatsoever is neces- 
sary to a clear and correct apprehension of the same. 
And perhaps the first step in that direction should be to 
get a definite conception of what is really meant, or should 
be meant, by the term theory; since the word, although 
in very common use, is somewhat ambiguous, well illus- 
trating the fact that many words come to have divergent 
meanings, and that we need always to discern which 
meaning is intended in any given instance. Much con- 
fusion often arises, among teachers as well as other people, 
through neglect of this very important fact. 

What Theory Means. — Etymologically, the word is 
derived from a Greek word meaning to behold. Thus, 
in its ancient use, theoria meant anything found out, 
information, knowledge of any sort; but the modern use 
is much more restricted. In common speech, it is often 
used to denote a supposition, a conjecture, more or less 
elaborated, and proposed as a reasonable explanation of 



2 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

some obscure fact or condition of things not fully nnder- 
stood. Thus, if a lionse had been mysteriously burned 
with all its inmates, each witness of the result might have, 
his own individual "theory" of how the fire originated. 
If, however, the fact to be accounted for were one of great 
importance or of scientific interest, the speculation, or 
tentative solution , would be called a hypothesis. Hypothesis 
and supposition are respectively the Greek and Latin words 
denoting one and the same idea; the word theory should 
not be confused with either of these by careful speakers. 

Scientific Use of the Term. — In scientific usage, the term 
theory has acquired a meaning still farther removed from 
its original sense. It stands for the tvhole hody of p)Tinci' 
pies underlying any subject or branch of hnowledge. 

Principles are defined as fundamental truths. It thus 
becomes necessary to understand the difference between 
truths and facts. Fact is derived from facere^ to make 
or do. A fact is something made or done, a completed 
event or thing. Facts are single, individual,, particular. 
Each tick of a clock, for instance, is a fact; the clock 
itself is a fact. A fact has reality only at a particular 
time and place. 

Truths, on the other hand, are general, universal. A 
truth is ahvays true. It is a truth that all clocks tick. 
It is a fact that I have two eyes; it is a truth that every 
normally constituted man has two eyes. What we call the 
laws of nature are truths. Thus /«w, truth., and iwinciple 
mean much the same thing. 

Science is made up of truths, or principles; it is general 
knowledge. Hence theory and science mean much the 
same thing. 

It seems necessary, therefore, to keep in mind the fact 
that theory has two divergent meanings, (1) The loose, 
popular meaning of supposition, hypothesis, guesswork by 



WHAT THEORY MEANS 3 

way of explaining phenomena, and (2) The strict, scien- 
tific meaning of the body of principles underlying a 
subject. 

Distinction detiueen Hypothesis and Theory. — It is 
useful to note a distinctioQ sometimes made between 
theory and hypothesis. While the supposition, or specu- 
lation, especially if somewhat elaborate or complex, is 
still mere conjecture, it is called a hypothesis. When 
evidence for it has accumulated so that it comes to be 
generally accepted as established, it is then called a 
theory. Thus, men once spoke of the nebular hypothesis, 
the evolution hypothesis, whereas we now speak of the 
nebular theory, the evolution theory. Thus theory in the 
loose, popular use, like hypothesis, is applied to tentative, 
conjectural explanations of events and phenomena, while 
in its scientific use it is applied only to the true and verified 
explanations based in the nature of things, the laws of 
nature and of life. 

Theory and Practice. — The terms tlieory and practice.^ 
like science and art^ are correlative terms, the one having 
reference to knowledge general, or universal, in its char- 
acter ; the other having reference to skill in the doing of 
things. People often assume a contradiction between 
theory and practice. They say, "That may be good theory, 
but it will network in practice." Such a remark grows 
out of a misconception of terms. Nothing can be good 
theory which will not work out in practice. Theory is the 
truth which underlies practice, or art. We must prove 
a proposed theory to be false or untenable before we are 
entitled to say that it will not work in practice. Of 
course, a genuine failure to "work" under proper condi- 
tions would argue that the proposed theory was either 
false or not rightly understood by those attempting to 
apply it. 



4: THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

Scope of the Term Illustrated. — The full application 
of the term theory may be illustrated by reference to the 
construction of a great building or bridge. No amount 
of mere practical knowledge, or knowledge of facts, would 
suffice for such an undertaking. There must first be an 
architect or engineer with a large equipment of theoretical 
knowledge. This will comprise a knowledge of (1) The 
End, or Purpose, of the structure; (2) The Materials, 
including full understanding of their properties and con- 
sequent fitness; (3) The Mechanism, or the principles and 
forms of mechanical construction. 

The intelligent practice of teaching, in like manner, 
involves a knowledge of the theory, or principles, of teach- 
ing in these three lines of End, Material, and Mechanism, 
or Method. 

Why Study the Theory of Teaching? — We study the 
theory of teaching for the same reason that we study the 
theory of mechanics, namely, tliat our practice may he more 
intelligent^ safe., and economical. Theoretical knowledge 
in connection with and antecedent to any art tends to 
prevent waste of material and waste of effort, as well as to 
secure more perfect results. A famous English surgeon 
was complimented on his skill in operations on the eye. 
He replied sadly, "Yes, but it has cost a whole bushel of 
eyes." A complete scientific equipment at the outset 
would doubtless have saved many of that "bushel" 
of eyeSc 

The teacher's art is so far-reaching in its effects, so 
remediless when misdirected, that theoretical foundations, 
wherever discoverable, are more essential and imperative 
than with any other art. "Forewarned is forearmed," 
and it behooves the teacher to have all possible light and 
guidance through knowledge of the general laws and 
principles which underlie his work, 



WHAT THEORY MEANS 5 

Summary. — The word theory, in common speech, means a sup- 
position or hypothesis; in stricter, scientific usage it means the 
body of fundamental truths, or principles, underlying a subject. 

Truths are general, universal; facts are particular, individual. 

When a hypothesis has become generally accepted, it is called 
a theory. 

The terms theory and science are closely related, as are their 
correlatives, art and practice. 

The theory underlying any art comprises knowledge of (1) The 
End, (2) Materials, and (3) Mechanism, or Metliod. 

We study the theory of teaching, as we do that of any other 
art, to prevent mistakes and needless waste. 



CHAPTER II 

EDUCATION: ITS NATURE AND END 

The Derivation of the Term. — The word education is 
derived, according to the traditional etymology, from the 
Latin educere^ to draw out, or bring forth. A mistaken 
application of this etymology has, however, often been 
made. Education is not drawing out in the mechanical 
sense of "pumping," or seeking to elicit ex2:)ression of 
knowledge. A helpful illustration of the true application 
may rather be drawn from the garden. When a seed or 
bulb is planted, under proper conditions, we may think of 
sun and rain as drawing out the plant from its germ, pro- 
ducing "first the blade, then the ear, then the full corn 
in the ear." In such a sense only is education a drawing- 
out process. It stimulates and, in a manner, directs the 
development of what is already in the germ potentially. 
The closest synonym for education is development. 

What Development Means. — Development includes 
growth, but is something more than growth. While 
growth, physically speaking, may mean only increase of 
bulk or weight, development involves increase in com- 
plexity of structure and of function, with consequent 
increase of value or capacity. There is, however, really 
no such thing as mental growth without development of 
some sort. 

Mental development implies increase of capacity in vari- 
ous directions. AVe may specify (1) Increase in capacity 
for worh^ efficiency, the ability to bring things to pass. 



EDUCATION: ITS NATURE AND END 7 

(2) For tinder standing^ comprehension of the true nature 
and reasons of things. (3) For enjoyment^ the power to 
derive satisfaction from the various elements of our envi- 
ronment. (4) For usefulness^ serviceable ness to those 
about us and to society. 

These four factors of personal development more or less 
overlap. The efficient man commands his price in the 
world. His efficiency is itself a source of enjoyment and 
a chief means of usefulness. The man who understands 
derives great enjoyment from his understanding. The 
educated, or developed, man has more channels of enjoy- 
ment and deeper currents flowing in them. The service- 
able, self-sacrificing man is such by reason of his under- 
standing and efficiency, and derives the highest type of 
enjoyment from his service to mankind. 

The Factors of Education. — Education includes cer- 
tain factors, differing in form. The first of these is 
Instruction. The word is derived from instruere^ mean- 
ing to build within. Instruction is therefore the building 
up, within the mind of another, of a body of organized 
knowledge, not mere facts heaped up like a sand-pile, but 
truths fitted together and forming a mental structure. 

A second factor is Training. This bears the same 
relation to instruction that art does to science. It develops 
the power to do things and to apply knowledge. The end 
of instruction is knowledge ; the end of training is skill. 
Skill is perfection in doing; it involves (a) accuracy in 
execution, (b) facility^ or ease of execution, and (c) rapid- 
ity of execution, which is, in fact, only a consequence or 
accompaniment of facility. We train children in the arts, 
for instance, of reading, penmanship, singing, and gym- 
nastics. We instruct them in history and the sciences. 

But education includes something more than instruc- 
tion and training. This additional element, unfortu- 



8 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

nately, has not been clearly enough differentiated to 
receive a distinctive name. It is the remaining 
part of what produces character. Perhaps the term 
inspiration would serve as well as any. We may say, 

( Instructs, 
then, that Education -\ Trains, 

( Inspires. 
In the case of savage or primitive peoples, education 
consists chiefly of training, that factor being magnified to 
meet the end of self-preservation and the demands of the 
tribe, or social unit, including the forms of religious cere- 
monial. This training is often rigorous and admirably 
suited to the conditions which it is designed to perpetuate, 
as in the case of the Zunis and other Pueblo Indians. 
European education, in the past, has laid its greatest 
stress on instruction, aiming to produce the scholar or 
learned man rather than the efficient member of society. 

THE EI^D OF EDUCATION 

As the architect must first know the end, or purpose, 
of the building which he is set to construct, before his 
professional knowledge and skill can be brought into suc- 
cessful play, so the educator must have a well defined con- 
ception of the end at which education aims, the result 
which it should strive to produce in those subjected to its 
processes. Otherwise, its course will be capricious and 
haphazard and constantly liable to wasteful misdirection. 
And it must be remembered that the child has but one 
chance at education; if that chance is missed or wasted, 
the loss and damage are eternal. 

Statements of the End of Education. — The end of edu- 
cation has been stated in many ways, which differ more, 
perhaps, in their phraseology than in their real significa- 
tion. Probably the most familiar is the one attributed to 



education: its nature and end 9 

Rousseau and endorsed by Herbert Spencer, viz., The end 
of education is comjolete living. This is a very concise 
formula, and helpful if one understands what is really 
involved in living completely. In forming an idea of the 
contrast between a complete life and a narrow, fragmen- 
tary one, we may be helped by comparing the actual 
mental life and soul-experience of some uneducated, 
neglected, and spiritually stunted person of our acquaint- 
ance with our idea of his original, native possibilities, 
intellectual and moral, under a favorable regimen, or 
environment. 

Another formula favored by many philosophers makes 
the end of education to be self-realization^ the fulfillment 
of one's destiny, the attainment of one's highest possibil- 
ities as a human being. Thus Plato held that education 
should "give to the body and to the soul all the beauty 
and all the perfection of which they are capable." 

A more recent statement of the end, derived from the 
German philosopher Herbart and now widely popularized, 
is that of "character building," which becomes really 
significant only when we arrive at a satisfactory definition 
of what is meant by character. 

Of these three formulge, so nearly equivalent in mean- 
ing, perhaps the most satisfactory and self-explanatory is 
that of self-realization. Under it, education is viewed as 
a process of gradual unfoldment, the opening out of all 
the soul's powers, as the perfect flower with all its organs 
is unfolded from the tiny bud, or even as the oak from 
the acorn. 

Oilier Statements of the End. — Other statements of the 
aim or ideal have been proposed which lay less emphasis 
on the development of the individual as such and more on 
his preparation for life as a member of human society. 
Among the best of these, is that offered by Thomas David- 



10 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

son, to wit: "The aim of education is the evolution of a 
social individual in intelligence, sympathy, and will." 
This involves the thought that man is not educated "to 
himself alone," but in order that he may play a fit and 
useful part among his fellow men. 

A similar conception of education now commanding 
attention is that its function is that of "adjustment to 
environment," a phrase somewhat vague and perhaps too 
elastic and indefinite to afford, as yet, much practical 
guidance. Education aims at far more than adjustment 
to any environment, since man to so great a degree creates 
his own environment. 

Mental Symmetry as a7i End. — Along with the concep- 
tion of the educational aim as "complete living," it has 
been much the custom to couple the idea of symmetrical, 
balanced culture. As in physical education we strive to 
develop and strengthen the weak and undeveloped muscles 
and organs so that the system shall be normal and vigor- 
ous, so in the education of the soul we should strive to 
rescue it from one-sidedness and abnormality. The 
developing of all our mental powers into perfect balance, 
to the end of well-rounded character and the ability to 
participate in all right and wholesome human experi- 
ences, is, to say the least, an inspiring aim in education.* 

We may add here for thoughtful consideration the 
declaration of John Milton, that a complete education 
should fit a man "to perform justly, skillfully, and mag- 
nanimously all the offices both private and public of peace 
and war." 

The Objects of a ScJiool — The school is one of the means 
devised for accomplishing the ends of education — a means 
only. The objects of a school may be briefly stated as 

(1) To promote the right development of the pupil. 

(2) To impart useful knowledge. 



EDUCATIOIT: ITS NATURE AND END 11 

The acquisition of knowledge is an indispensable means 
in the process of education. There can be no mental 
development without the exercise of the knowing powers; 
knowledge has been called "the aliment of the mind." 
Yet knowledge is not a complete and sufficient end in 
itself. Contrary to the popular conception, we must 
place its acquisition as, at most, only the secondary object 
of school endeavor. The question may further arise as 
to what knowledge really is useful. And here we must 
not think only of the material interests of men. That 
knowledge is most useful, most practical, which helps 
best to secure the true ends of education, which tends to 
enlarge and enrich tlie soul-life of the individual, to 
multiply his interests, and to make him of worth to the 
community to which he belongs. The writer of this book 
is fond of stating the end of education, and consequently 
the object of the school, as increase in personal value. 
Education makes one truly man, and increases the 
significance of his life, both to himself and to the world. 

Summary. — Education is a drawing-out process only in the 
same sense as is the growth of a plant. Its closest synonym is 
development. 

Development implies increase of capacity for work, under- 
Standing, enjoyment, and service. 

Education includes instruction, training, and an additional 
factor which may be called inspiration. 

Training aims at skill, which involves accuracy, facility, and 
rapidity of execution. 

The end of education has been variously stated as complete 
living, self-realization, character building, increase of personal 
value, and the evolution of a social individual. The conception 
of mental symmetry as an end in education lias also had much 
influence. 

The objects of a school are primarily, the mental development 
of the pupil, and, secondarily, the impartation of useful knowledge. 



CHAPTER III 

THE TEACHER'S MATERIAL: MIND 

The Teacher Must Knoiv his Material. — The engineer 
must be duly advised of the end, or purpose, of the struc- 
ture which he is commissioned to construct; but he is no 
engineer if he has not already been made thoroughly con- 
versant with the general properties and nature of all the 
materials from which he will have to make selection for 
his purpose. He must know scientifically, or theoret- 
ically, the forms of matter which are available. Any 
ignorance of which he may be guilty, any mistake which 
he may make here, will appear against him in due time in 
the form of disaster, ruin, or decay. 

The teacher, as an architect of character, is no less 
under the necessity of knowing the material of his art, 
not empirically and superficially but scientifically, in order 
that his work may stand the tests of life and time. But 
his case differs from that of the engineer in that he has no 
choice of materials; the one material on which he must 
work is Mind, child mind. And this he must take as it 
comes to him; he has no choice of quarry and no control 
over the quarrying. 

Peculiarity of the Teacher^s Material. — There is yet a 
further difference between the engineer and teacher in 
that the one works with dead material, unchangeable 
except by external attack; while the teacher's material is 
a living thing, immaterial, a spiritual organism, yet mys- 
teriously connected with a material body, also a living 

12 



THE teacher's MATERIAL: MIND 13 

organism. This twofold, plastic, living material is there- 
fore marveloiisly more complex, delicate, and susceptible 
of irreparable damage than all the materials of the builder's 
art, and correspondingly more difficult of intelligent com- 
prehension. Of all those who "rush in where angels fear 
to tread," the foremost in presnmption would seem to be 
those who cheerfully essay the work of teaching without 
any theoretical knowledge of this living material which 
they hope permanently to transform. 

What the Teacher Needs to Know. — Every teacher must 
make a special study of the peculiarities and limitations 
of the individual minds entrusted to his care. But this 
study of individual traits, in order to be intelligent and 
trustworthy, >must be made in the light of an adequate 
acquaintance with the general truths, or laws, of mind. 
And this adequate acquaintance does not come by intui- 
tion nor by mere cursory observation of the actions of 
children. It is needful, therefore, that the prospective 
teacher make a somewhat careful, even though elemen- 
tary, study of the laws of mind as formulated and 
arranged by the science of Psychology. 

But as the teacher's material is not pure and unrelated 
mind, so it is not enough that he should know, as a prep- 
aration for his work, pure and unrelated psychology. To 
use a crude figure, Pedagogy walks on at least four feet, 
and psychology is only one of these. That "the proper 
study of mankind is man" is truer for the teacher than 
for anybody else; but "man" is a complex, the successful 
study of which demands the aid of Physiology, Logic, and 
Ethics, as well as Psychology. And the teacher's knowl- 
edge of these sciences of man must not be kept in so 
many separate compartments, or pigeon-holes. It is per- 
haps a defect of present-day instruction that we separate 
the sciences too strictly in our teaching. In the follow- 



14 THE THEORY OP TEACHING 

ing chapters they will be drawn upon somewhat indis- 
criminately as occasion and mutual helpfulness require, 
without much regard to division lines. It will be the 
steady aim in Part II to set forth as clearly and simply as 
possible the nature of mind and its typical modes of 
action, assuming that the reader is not entirely ignorant 
of Physiology, and especially Neurology, the physiology 
of the nervous system. Part III will deal with the prac- 
tical application of tlie knowledge presented in Part II to 
the work of teaching. As Part I deals with the End of 
Teaching, Parts II and III, respectively, will deal with 
the Material and the Mechanism of the teacher's art. 

Summary. — As the engineer or architect must have large 
theoretical knowledge of his materials, so the teacher must know, 
scientifically, the material of his art, that his work may stand. 

The material which the teacher must fashion is mind, a living, 
spiritual organism, complex, delicate, and susceptible of perma- 
nent damage. 

The teacher must study the peculiarities and limitations of each 
individual pupil, but this must be done in tlie light of the general 
truths, or laws, of mind and life. This will invohe some acquaint- 
ance with Physiology, Psychology, I^ogic, and Ethics, these being 
the four sciences on which scientific pedagogy rests. 



PART II 
ELEMENTARY PSYCHOLOGY AND LOGIC 



CHAPTER IV 



THE NATURE OF MIND 



What is Mind? — We may not aspire, at this point, to 
frame a scientific definition of mind ; but we may clear up 
our notion of it somewhat by other means. A synonym is 
not a definition, we should remember; yet synonyms often 
help us to clearer understanding. Some synonyms, then, 
for mind are soul^ spirit^ the ego^ the self^ the immaterial 
part of man. Mind and soul are, in scientific usage, syn- 
onymous; though in religious parlance the word soul is 
used to denote a particular aspect or activity of the mind 
as if it were a distinct entity,, or substance. We assume a 
distinction, a separateness of nature, between mind and 
matter; but we know nothing, in fact, of the ultimate 
nature of either in itself. We know them both only 
through their manifestations, their observable phenomena. 
The question of what mind is in itself belongs to philoso- 
phy rather than to psychology or pedagogy. The question 
for us, then, is "How does mind act, what can it do?" 
And the same is true as to matter. 

What Matter and Mind Do. — What does matter do? 
Only one thing: it moves. We are to think here not of 
gross movements simply, like those of falling bodies, but 

15 



16 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

more especially of molecular motion, those infinitesimal 
and invisible movements with which it is the business of 
Physics to deal. Matter vibrates. 

What can mind do? Three things. It is not ponder- 
able; it does not occupy space; size does not pertain to it. 
But it is capable of changing its own condition in three 
modes, or forms. Mind Tcnoios^ feels^ and wills. 

Knowing^ Feeling^ and Willing. — It is not easy to draw 
a line between these activities, or to formulate definitions. 
The soul does not act one side at a time, but as a whole. 
Every state of the mind is a compound of knowing, feel- 
ing, and willing ; and we name the state from its predom- 
inating element. Yet we are better able to think and 
talk about the mind by distinguishing these different 
phases of its activity. 

(1) In lack of satisfactory definitions, we may say, 
roughly, that Feeling includes those activities of mind 
which are accompanied by some degree of pleasure or 
pain. The question has been discussed whether there 
are any feelings devoid of either pleasure or pain. But 
it seems natural to regard "neutral" feelings as only 
those in which there is a very low degree of pleasure or 
pain. These terms, pleasure and pain, express the value 
or interest which a given mental state has for us. 

(2) Knowing is the term apj^lied to the consciousness of 
difference or resemblance between our mental experiences, 
and so, by assumption, between the external objects 
which in any way affect our mental states. The two 
fundamental operations of Knowing, or Intellect, are 

(1) Discrimination, or the discernment of difference; and 

(2) Assimilation (from similis^ like), the discernment of 
likeness. We shall have further occasion, later on, to 
consider these fundamental intellectual activities. 

(3) Will is a term of somewhat various application, but 



THE NATURE OF MIN^D 17 

is always applied to those phases of mental activity con- 
nected with action^ or the inception of action. Will, in 
the narrower sense of the word, has been defined as "the 
soul's poAver of self-direction towards chosen ends." 

Consciousness. — Consciousness is a very convenient 
term, which covers all mental operations. Knowing, feel- 
ing, and willing are all forms or elements of consciousness. 
When neither pleasure, pain, discrimination, nor tendency 
to self-directed action are present, we call the condition 
unconsciousness. The individual consciousness is very 
complex, composed of many elements, and continually 
changing, so that we speak, appropriately, of the stream 
of consciousness. This stream is broken, or interrupted, 
only by sleep, and by abnormal brain conditions, such as 
fainting fits. 

Connection of Mind and Body. — In common thought 
and speech, we distinguish between mind and body. We 
speak of the body as "the casket of the soul," "the 
temple of the spirit," or as the "servant" of the mind. 
Bnt while recognizing the truth which underhes these 
expressions, we should not overlook the converse relation, 
the dependence of the mind on the body. As we shall see 
in the chapters following, mental activity cannot begin 
nor develop except through changes in the condition of 
the nervous system. Our states of mind depend on the 
changing conditions and states of the body. Mental vigor 
is more or less dependent on bodily vigor. Mental 
derangement is traceable to brain disorder, or injuries. 
The various emotions, as fear, anger, and joy, find their 
expression in bodily signs; and the energy of our bodily 
acts depends on the energy of our acts of will. The body 
is not simply an intermediary between the mind and the 
external world; there is a close and wonderful interde- 
pendence between them. The physician needs to know 



18 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

something of the laws of mind in order to treat properly 
the disorders of the body ; and the teacher needs a con- 
siderable knowledge of physiology, especially of the nerv- 
ous system, that he may deal with the mind intelligently. 
In the work that follows, we must distinguish clearly at all 
times between mind and brain, not confusing or interchang- 
ing them; but, on the other hand, we must recognize the 
invariable connection of brain activity and mental activity. 
Psycliolo(j\j. — Psychology is the science of consciousness. 
Its business is to describe, classify, and explain the vari- 
ous states and changes of consciousness. As a science, it 
is still incomplete, and many of its hypotheses are yet 
matters of speculation and controversy. Hence its full 
contribution to the science of teaching has not yet been 
made; but much has been made ont so clearly and estab- 
lished so firmly that the educator need not hesitate to 
appropriate it for guidance in his work. It is only these 
established propositions of psychology which directly con- 
cern the student in a normal school. The unsolved 
problems and unverified hypotheses of inchoate science 
belong only to the university and the specialist. Science 
deals only with observable facts and phenomena. What- 
ever is back of these facts and beyond the possibility of 
observation must be left to philosophy, or metaphysics. 
Philosophy may concern itself with questions as to the 
spiritual entity back of our mental activities, that luMcli 
knows, feels, and wills; but psychology, as a science, 
must confine itself to these activities themselves. Philos- 
ophy may deal with the thinker; psychology deals with 
the thinhing. 

Summary. — Some synonyms for mind are soul, spirit, the ego, 
the self, the immaterial part of man. 

We know nothing of the ultimate nature of either mind or 
matter, but know them only through their manifestations. 



THE NATURE OE MIND 19 

Matter can do only one thing; it moves, or vibrates. 

Mind lias tliree phases of activity, feelhig, knowing, and willing. 

Feeling is characterized by some degree of pleasure or pain. 

Knowing is the consciousness of difference or resemblance. 

Willmg is connected with action or tendencies to action. 

Consciousness is a general term for all possible mental states; 
it is very complex and continually changing. 

While we distinguish between mind and body, we must recog- 
nize their close relation and constant interdependence and the 
invariable connection of brain activity and mental activity. 

Psychology is the science of consciousness; it deals only with 
the observable manifestations of mind. Questions as to the 
ultimate nature of the soul, and matter as well, belong to philoso- 
phy, or metaphysics. 



CHAPTER V 



HOW KNOWLEDGE BEGINS 



Whether the acquisition of knowledge be considered a 
primary or a secondary end in education, the question of 
the genesis of knowledge, its beginning and sources, is one 
of importance to the educator. Let us, tlierefore, give 
some consideration to the mental status of early infancy. 

Mental Status of the New-Born Bahc. — What does a 
new-born baby know? Nothing whatever. He is able to 
perform certain necessary actions without any process of 
learning how. He breathes, cries, suckles, swallows, 
clutches, and performs certain crude movements of the 
limbs without any purpose, or intention — and probably 
without any definite consciousness, even, of what is taking 
place among his members. These spontaneous, impulsive 
movements of legs and arms, wholly beyond the child's 
control, are of the utmost importance to his development, 
both physical and mental, furnishing the starting point 
and preparation by which voluntary, intentional move- 
ments become possible later on. But they must not be 
interpreted as furnishing any evidence of mentality at the 
first outset of life. 

The Helplessness of Infancy . — It will be useful at this 
point to give a little consideration to the significance of 
the helplessness of infancy. The young of the lower 
animals are born ready-made, so to speak. The progeny 
of insects, for instance, or even of some reptiles and birds, 
can do soon after birth almost all that they can ever do in 

20 



HOW KNOWLEDGE BEGINS 21 

the way of supplying their needs. But the human infant 
is long dependent on the careful service of its parents. It 
is physically weak and undeveloped; it has, as yet, no 
knowledge of the world without; it is comparatively bare, 
of instincts, and has nearly everything to learn. 

But in this fact that the child is born half-made, help- 
less, and dependent, lies the whole possibility of education. 
It is this which makes him an educable, adaptable being. 
The lower animal is born already adjusted to his environ- 
ment; if not, he dies promptly. The human infant, which 
must adjust itself to a very complex environment, and to 
many environments, has for that reason a long period of 
gradual development under nurture and discipline. 

The First Consciousness. — To return to our new-born 
babe in the cradle, we have here a little machine, wound 
up to execute those few movements which are most neces- 
sary to Lis infantile existence and out of which his future 
powers of action may, under favoring conditions, be 
evolved. What, then, is the first consciousness of the 
child? What is the first step out from the mental blank- 
ness immediately succeeding birth? It seems to be well 
established that none of the senses are active in the first 
day or two of life. The babe does not see, though his 
eyes are open. Several days may pass before any indica- 
tions can be detected of sensitiveness to light; and mere 
sensitiveness to light can hardly be called seeing. He 
does not hear, and is not awakened by noise, being sensi- 
tive to jarring sooner than to sounds. 

Which is the first of the senses to awaken? is a question 
which has received considerable attention. Dr. Preyer, a 
pioneer investigator, in his very interesting book on "The 
Senses and the Will," holds that taste is first to manifest 
its active presence; but later observers have not confirmed 
his conclusion. It is doubtless true that the first con- 



22 THE THEORY OF TEACHIKG 

sciousness of the child is feeling of too vague and undiffer- 
entiated a character to he assigned to any one of the 
special senses. It is prohahly an all-overish feeling of 
discomfort, or uneasiness, which only gradually and slowly 
becomes definite and specific. If a pin pricks the babe he 
does not know what ails him, does not know that he is 
pricked, still less where. It may be weeks, even, before 
he sees or hears in any proper sense of those terms. 
The sense of smell is apparently the last to come into 
play. 

The First Intellectual Activity. — The first consciousness 
which can be thought of as knowing must consist simply 
in the discernment of difference, or change, in feeling. 
When a light comes into the room or the clock begins to 
strike, the babe might say, if he had the language to say 
anything, *'That is different." Knowledge can go no 
farther at this stage. Bnt after the same event has 
occurred a number of times, its recurrence will be recog- 
nized and the babe might be imagined to say, * 'There it is 
again." Here, then, in this earliest discrimination or 
detection of change, is to be found the beginning of 
knowledge. The means by which this power of discrimi- 
nation is developed and knowledge is increased must 
receive fuller consideration hereafter. 

The Sources of Knoiuledge. — The original sources of 
knowledge are two, (1) Perception, and (2) Self-conscious- 
ness. Perception may here be provisionally defined as the 
power and the act of gaining knowledge of external objects 
by means of the senses. It has sometimes been asserted 
that this is the sole source of knowledge. ^' Nihil est in 
intellectu quod non priiis fuerit in sensu^ there is nothing 
in the intellect which was not first in the senses," is a 
maxim enunciated by Comenius 250 years ago, and often 
reiterated since ; but it can be true only in a very limited 



HOW KNOWLEDGE BEGINS 23 

sense. For instance, how can knowledge of the higher 
mathematics ever have been "in the senses"? Much of 
our most important knowledge is reached through reason- 
ing and reflection. It is only the original data of knowl- 
edge of which the maxim can be held true; but, properly 
qualified, it is one which the teacher needs to keep 
steadily in view. 

Self-Consciousness as a Source of Knoivledge. — Self- 
consciousness is also a primary source of knowledge. By 
this is here meant the consciousness which we have of our 
own inner states, our emotional and intellectual condi- 
tions. This has been sometimes denominated as inner 
perception; but that only leads to confusion of thought, 
through looseness in the use of the term perception. 
How does one know that he is, at a. given moment, sad or 
joyous, angry, or frightened, or fond? Certainly not by 
any means which can properly be called perception. How 
is one sure of his personal identity from day to day, not- 
withstanding the intervals of sleep? Certainly not by 
looking in the mirror. 

This consciousness of one's self as a continuous person- 
ality and as separated from the objective world, external 
to self, is tardy in arising and slow of growth. Tennyson 
seems to have divined the truth of this matter in the well- 
known lines from "In Memoriam": 



'' The baby new to earth and sky 

What time his tender pahn is prest 
Against the circle of the breast 
Has never thought that this is I; 

" But as he grows he gathers much 
And learns the use of ' I ' and ' me ' 
And finds I am not what I see 
And other than the things I touch. 



24 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

" So rounds he to a separate mind 

From whence clear memory may begin, 
As through the frame that binds him in 
His isolation grows defined." 

Summary. — The new-born babe knows nothing, but performs 
certain necessary actions automatically. 

His first consciousness is doubtless a vague, indefinite feeling 
of discomfort, or uneasiness. The senses of sight and hearing 
are not awake in the first day or two of life. 

The first beginning of knowledge is found in the consciousness 
of difference, or change, in states of feeling. 

The young of insects and lower animals are born ready-made, 
but the human infant experiences a long period of incompleteness 
and helplessness, which is the ground of his adaptability and capac- 
ity for education. 

The original sources of knowledge are two, perception and self- 
consciousness. These furnish the original data from which 
other knowledge is elaborated. 



CHAPTER VI 

THE NERVOUS MECHANISM 

Sensation the Starting Point of Consciousness — The 
simplest forms of consciousness, taken coUectiveiy, go by 
the name of Sensation. Common speech as well as scien- 
tific thought recognizes sensation as the starting point 
and foundation of all mental experience. In itself, sen- 
sation is simple feeling, feeling having an external, phys- 
ical origin; but it also furnishes the starting point for 
knowledge. It has a cognitive aspect. It is needful, 
therefore, to give some consideration to the physical ante- 
cedents of sensation, which are found i?i the functional 
processes of the nervous system. 

The Physical Basis of Sensation. — The physical basis 
of sensation is found in the irritability and conductivity 
of certain tissues of the body known as nerve tissues and 
organized into an apparatus known as the Nervous Sys- 
tem. There are in fact two of these systems, but we are 
here chiefly interested in that known as the Cerebro-spinal 
system. With the so-called Sympathetic system we need 
not here concern ourselves, however important it may be 
in the vital economy. 

Kerve tissue is of two kinds, the so-called white and 
gray matter, the nature and relation of which will be 
touched upon later. The principal parts of the cerebro- 
spinal system are the brain, the spinal cord, and the 
nerves, which last radiate in pairs from the spinal cord 
at different levels, or from the lower parts of the brain, as 
in the case of the cranial nerves. 

25 



26 THE THEORY OF TEACHIJSTG 

Tlie Brain. — We may speak first, in a general way, of 
the brain, which is the mass of nerve tissue, along with 
connective and other tissues, occupying the whole inner 
space of the skull. It is the most highly organized and 
complex part of the body, and the most completely 
removed from direct observation. It comprises several 




Fig. 1. Vertical Section of the Brain. 
A, frontal lobe ol the cerebrum; B, parietal lobe; D, occipital lobe; E, cer- 
ebellum; H. pons Varolii; K, medulla oblongata. The white curved 
band above H is the corpus callosum. {From BlaisdeU's Physiology.) 

distinct but closely related parts, or organs. These are 
(1) The Cerebrum, or cerebral hemispheres, occupying the 
upper and forward part of the cranial cavity. The two 
hemispheres are separated by a deep furrow, or suture, but 
are connected by a large band of transverse white fibers, 
known as the corpus callosuin. The outer Ig^er of the 
cerebrum, composed of gray matter, is called the cortex, 
or cortical layer, and contains the active elements of the 
brain, the cell bodies of the cerebral neurones. The 



THE NERVOUS MECHANISM /J7 

cortex is grooved and wrinkled with many furrows and 
folds, called convolutions, which give it a large exterior 
surface. The central part of the hemispheres is filled 
with the white matter, an interlacing mass of the so-called 
association fibers^ which connect all parts of the cortex 
with other parts. 

(2) Below and back of the cerebrum is the Cerebellum, 
or "little brain," which is supposed to have as its function 
the control of coordinated muscular movements, as in 
walking. 

(3) Next to this, is the Medulla Oblongata, or Bulb, a 
knob-like body forming the upper terminus of the spinal 
cord. It connects the spinal cord with the brain and is 
the great railway junction, so to speak, of. the nervous 
system. It also contains many centers of reflex action, 
both of the cranial nerves and of the sympathetic system, 
thus controlling the automatic movements of the vital 
organs. . 

(4) Other smaller bodies, such as the pons Varolii, optic 
thalami, corpora striata, and corpora quadrigemina, whose 
functions are more or less conjectural, are packed away 
under the base of tlio cerebrum and about the medulla. 
The brain, thus composed, is the great central organ of 
the nervous system, with which all parts of the body are 
connected by the spinal cord and the nerves. 

Nerves. — The term "nerve" is somewhat indefinite, or 
ambiguous, in its present use, It is sometimes used as 
synonymous with nerve trunk, and sometimes with nerve 
fiber. In its simplest type, or plan, a nerve consists of a 
fine thread, or filament, of the gray matter, known as the 
axis cylinder^ and connected at one end with a nerve cell 
from which it originates. This axis cylinder, or nerve 
fiber, is, in iLOst cases, encased for the greater part of its 
length by a sheath composed of a white, fatty substance 



28 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

and Known as the medullary sheath. This, again, is 
surrounded by a delicate membranous case called the 
neurilemma, or epineurium. The purpose of this double 
sheath is supposed to be partly lor protection to the 
enclosed fiber and partly for insulation, to prevent waste 
of nervous energy and confusion of nerve currents, in a 
manner analogous to the insulation of telephone and 
electric light wires. Not all nerve fibers, however, acquire 
the medullary sheath. Those which do are called medul- 
lated fibers and constitute what is called the white matter 
of the spinal cord and the brain. The so-called gray 
matter consists of cell bodies and non-medullated fibers. 
Strictly speaking, the white matter has no conduct] )e 
function except as it is threaded by the gray matter cf 
the axis cylinders. 




Fig. 2. Cross Section of Part of the Median Nerve. 

Nerve trunks, also called nerves, are bundles of these 
nerve fibers, which divide or branch into smaller and 
smaller bundles as they recede from the brain or spinal 
cord toward the peripheral regions of the body. Each 
nerve trunk, whether the main trunk or a branch thereof, 
has its own encasing sheath and is subdivided by thin 



THE KEKVOUS MECHANISM 29 

walls of connective tissue which separate the smaller 
bundles. Thirty-one pairs of these nerve trunks, or nerves, 
depart from the spinal cord at various levels, and twelve 
pairs of cranial nerves branch off from the lower parts of 
the brain. 

Tlie Sjyinal Cord. — The spinal cord is a column of 
nervous and other tissues occupying the spinal canal, or 
tube which perforates the vertebra. In the adult, its 
average length is about eighteen inches and its diameter 
about three-fourths of an inch. It terminates in a sort of 
whisk or bunch of nerve roots, knoAvn as the can da equina^ 
or "horse's tail." The cord is the great nerve trunk of 
the system, and contains a vast number of nerve fibers, 
both motor and sensory, with many nerve cells, all these 
being closely packed with connective tissue and other 
substances. All the nerve fibers of the thirty-one pairs 
of spinal nerves conduct upward by various connections to 
the brain. The spinal cord is thus the great, main high- 
way by which communication is maintained between the 
cortex and the remotest parts of the torso and limbs of 
the body. 

Summary. — The starting point of consciousness is found in 
sensation, which has its physical basis in the irritabiblty and con- 
ductivity of nerve tissues organized in the cerebro-spinal system. 

The chief organ in tliis S5^stem is the brain, which comprises the 
cerebrum, the cerebellum, and the medulla. 

The cerebrum is composed of two hemispheres, complementary 
to each other; its outer rind or layer of gray matter is called the 
cortex and contains the active elements of the brain, the cerebral 
neurones. 

The cerebellum has for its function the regulation and co- 
ordination of muscular movements. The medulla controls the 
automatic actions of the vital organs. 

Nerves are the conducting organs of the system; they are com- 
posed of fine filaments, or fibers, called axis cylinders, each sur- 
rounded, in most cases, by a white sheath. Each nerve, or nerve 



30 THE THEORY OP TEACHING 

trunk, is a bundle composed of smaller bundles of nerve fibers 
and branching or dividing as it recedes from the spinal axis. 

The spinal cord is a column of nerve tissues within the vertebral 
canal; from it thirty-one pairs of nerves branch off and ramify to 
all parts of the body. It contains large numbers of nerve cells 
and their connecting fibers, forming the great nervous pathway 
between the brain and the remoter parts of the body and com- 
prising the centers of reflex action. 



CHAPTER VII 

THE NERVOUS MECHANISM— CONTINUED 

Elements of the Nervous Mechanism. — As a working 
apparatus, the nervous system may be analyzed into three 
kinds of structures or organs, viz.. Nerve Centers, Nerves, 
and Nerve Ends, or End Organs. The nerve fibers, 
whose structure has already been considered, are organs 
of transmission, connecting the nerve ends with nerve 
centers. They are of two kinds, (1) Sensory, or incarry- 
ing, nerves, which transmit energy from the nerve ends to 
the centers, and (2) Motor nerves, which extend from the 
nerve centers into all the muscles. In their transmission 
of nerve energy, the sensory nerves may be thought of as 
centripetal; the motor nerves, as centrifugal. 

We must pass now to consider the source of that nerve 
energy for whose transmission the nerves exist. 

Nerve Centers, — Nerve centers are groups, or masses, 
of nerve cells and fibers which form a meeting point for 
sensory and motor nerves. The functions of nerve cen- 
ters are (1) Wiq generation^ (2) the storing uj)^ and (3) the 
discharge of nervous energy. They might be compared, 
roughly, with the batteries of a telegraph system, the 
nerves corresponding to the wires, with this difference, 
that a telegraph wire conducts force in either direction, 
while a nerve conducts it in one direction only. Nervous 
energy has sometimes been thought to beidentical with 
electricity, which it much resembles in some of its mani- 
festations ; but it is found only in connection with nervous 
tissues. 

31 



32 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

The brain may be considered as a great aggregation of 
nerve centers variously related and connected with one 
another, as well as with the remoter parts of the nervous 
system. The nerve centers of the cerebrum are spoken of 
as the higher centers. Other centers, or ganglia, as they 
are sometimes called, are found at the base of the brain 
and along the spinal cord. These are called the loiver 
centers. These lower centers differ somcAvhat in function 
from those in the cerebrum, a difference which will be 
considered in the next chapter. 

To repeat, it is the business of all nerve centers to gen- 
erate and store np energy ready for discharge upon the 
motor nerves at the proper signal from the sensory nerves. 
We must now consider the nature of that signal. 

Nerve Ends. — The nerve ends of the sensory nerves are 
distributed throughout the outer or peripheral parts of 
the body, including the linings of the digestive and other 
cavities. They are very minute in size and various in 
form, but may be crudely thought of as terminal expan- 
sions not unlike the leaves of a tree or the head of a pin. 
The immense number of nerve ends lodged in the skin 
vary greatly in form and special function, and some of 
them, as the Pacinian corpuscles, are exceedingly complex 
in structure. The general function of all these end organs 
is (1) that of trritaMUti/y the reception of irritation, or 
response to stimuli, and (2) the commnnication of this 
irritation or excitement to the nerves^ by which it is trans- 
mitted, or propagated, along the nerve fibers to the nerve 
center. In the case of some of the cranial nerves, all the 
nerve ends of all the separate nerve filaments are gathered 
up and organized into a sense organ, as the eye and the ear. 

The Stimulation of Nerve Ends. — The physical stimuli 
capable of exciting nerve action are various in nature, and 
the nerve ends are of various structure and susceptibility, 



THE NERVOUS MECHANISM 33 

to correspond with the several forms of stimuli. Thus 
the nerve ends in the eye, which respond only to light- 
waves, and those of the ear, which respond only to sound- 
waves, are very different from those in the skin, which 
respond, according to their respective natures, to changes 
of contact or of temperature. But, whatever the form or 
kind of stimulus, the resulting excitement or "current" 
is doubtless some form of molecular motion or vibration 
which is communicated successively to the molecules of 
the nerve fiber, something as in the case of a row of 
bricks set upon end at intervals, or a row of suspended 
balls, when force is applied to one end of the row. Each 
ball or brick communicates its motion to the next, and a 
wave of change runs down the line. 

The Discharge of Nerve Centers. — The relation of nerve 
centers to the rest of the mechanism may be illustrated by 
comparison with the process of blasting with gunpowder. 
The potential energy of the nerve center corresponds to 
the charge of powder, the nerve corresponds to the fuse, 
and the nerve end to a match-head attached to the end of 
the fuse. Scratch the match-head and the ignition causes 
a sputter of combustion to pass along the fuse and dis- 
charge the blast — only the rate of transmission is iutiuitely 
more rapid in the nerve fibers. 

The entrance of this molecular v/ave, or excitation, into 
the nerve center has the effect, if sufficient in strength, 
of discharging some of its stored up energy, which gives 
rise to another wave, or excitation, in the motor nerves 
connected with that center. This motor current, upon 
reaching its destination, in some muscle, produces con- 
traction of muscular fibers, and a bodily movement results. 
The precise character of the end-plates of the motor 
nerves and the method by which they excite the contrac- 
tility of the muscular fibers are, as yet, rather obscure. 



34 



THE THEORY OF TEACHING 



Neurones. — Having taken this general view of the 
nervous mechanism, it will be useful to go a little more 
minutely into the details of nerve structure, a step which 
we are now better prepared to take. 

The unitary elements of both the higher and lower 
centers are known as neurones. A neurone consists, pri- 
marily, of a cell body 
composed of a granu- 
lar substance called 
protoplasm, enclosing 
a small, clearer por- 
tion known as the nu- 
cleus. These cell 
bodies are very irregu- 
lar and various inform, 
those of the brain be- 
ing largely of the form 
known as pyramidal 
cells. They have 
each a number of proc- 
esses, or projections, 
which are the start- 
ing points of fibers or 
filaments of various 
lengths. 

These are of two 
kinds, (1) the axone, 
a fiber having the qual- 
ity of conductivity and 
becoming what we have 
called the axis cylinder 
of a simple nerve, or 
nerve fiber; (2) the 

Pyramidal Cell of Human , , i • i t • i 

Cerebral Cortex. dendrons, whlchdlYlde 




Fig. 3. 



THE NERVOUS MECHANISM 



35 



into finer branches or rootlets, called 
dendrites. Their functions are some- 
what uncertain, including possibly that 
of nutrition in the service of the cell 
body, but probably that of conductiv- 
ity also. 

Axones. — The axones have a branch- 
ing structure and vary greatly in length, 
from a fraction of an inch up to two 
or three feet, according to location and 
use. They often branch greatly, throw- 
ing off side branches called laterals, 
which branch again in turn. They 
usually terminate in little tufts resem- 
bling the fingers of a hand, or the root- 
lets of a plant, and known as the 
arborization oi the axone. The arbori- 
zation of one axone may, in appearance, 
clasp or encompass the cell body of an- 
other neurone, or the arborization of 
one axone may interlace with the den- 
drites of another, and thus effect com- 
munication with it by a process thought 
to be similar to that of electrical in- 
duction. The arborized connections 
between neurones are numerous in the 
spinal cord and medulla, and seem to 
obviate the necessity for axones of 
greater length, while furnishing a 
greater diversity of paths between va- 
rious parts of the brain and the outly- 
ing members of the body. Neurones 
are anatomically separate, do not pen- 
etrate one another, but communicate 




^^ 



S.C 




s. 



M 



Fig. 4. Diagram of an 
Element of the 
Motor Path. 
C. C, cell of cerebral cor- 
tex. S. C. , cell of spinal 
cord. M., the muscle. 
S., path from sensory- 
nerve roots. 



36 



THE THEORY OF TEACHIN^G 



force something like a row of men clasping hands with 
one another. 

The cortical layer of the brain is largely composed of 
cell bodies, from which axones extend inwardly in all 
directions. The axones of the motor cells descend to 
various levels in the spinal cord, where they arborize with 
neurones whose axones pass out in the nerve trunks which 
depart from the spinal column. 

Cell bodies in the lower spinal ganglia, for example, 
have sensory fibers which extend to the extremities, as 
the toes, and bring up impulses from the nerve ends of 




Fig. 5. Principal Types of Cells in the Cerebral Cortex. 

A, medium-sized pyramidal cell of the second layer. B, large pyramidal cell 

of the third layer. C, polymorphous cell of the fourth layer. D, cell of 

which the axone is ascending. E, neuroglia cell. G, sensory fiber 

from the white niatter, H, white matter. 



THE NERVOUS MECHANISM 37 

those members, while other fibers or branches extend up- 
wards to the medulla, where they arborize with neurones 
whose axones reach the cortex. Such a cell might be com- 
pared, crudely, to a little man, or gnome, reaching down 
with one long arm to gather impulses while the other arm 
reaches up to clasp hands with a second man farther up 
the line, and thus pass along the grip received by the 
hand below. The cells of the cortex, on their part, have 
axones extending downwards to the lumbar enlargement 
of the spinal cord and then arborizing with neurones 
whose fibers pass out in the spinal nerve trunks to the 
remoter parts of the body. 

Summary. — ^The nervous mechanism includes nerve centers, 
nerves, and nerve ends. 

Nerve centers are groups of nerve cells whose function is to 
generate, store up, and discharge nervous energy. 

The brain is an aggregation of nerve centers known as the higher 
centers, the lower centers being found in the medulla and spinal 
cord. 

Nerve ends are terminal expansions or modifications of nerve 
fibers whose function is irritability under external stimulus. 
DifTerent forms of nerve ends respond to special forms of stimulus, 
as dilTerent rates of vibration. 

The nerves are organs of transmission between the nerve ends 
and nerve centers. The discharge of nerve centers excites cur- 
rents in the motor nerves which result in muscular contractions. 

The unitary elements of the nervous system are called neurones, 
and consist of a cell body, from which proceed branching fibers 
known as axones and dendrons. These fibers terminate in clusters 
of rootlets known as arborizations, which form the immediate 
means of communication between neurones. 



CHAPTER VIII 

REFLEX ACTION 

The Nerve Circuit. — AVe are now prepared to under- 
stand, measurably, the movements of the new-born babe, 
as touched upon in Chapter V. In the last paragraph 
(Chapter VII) we have made an introductory acquaintance 
with what is known as the Xervous Arc, or nerve circuit, 
or, in other words, the full course of the nervous current 
excited by an external stimulation. The nerve end is 
excited by some vibratory or chemical stimulus; a vibra- 
tion or change of some sort is propagated along the 
sensory nerve ; a nerve center is discharged ; a current is 
thus sent down the motor nerve to some muscle, and 
motion results. 

Reflex Action, — 'By a not altogether happy figure of 
speech, the motor current, in certain cases, is represented 
as thrown back, or reflected, from the nerve center, and 
the resulting movement is called Eeflex Action. This 
term is usually applied, however, only to those cases in 
which the movement is effected by the discharge of one 
or more of the lower centers, the cerebrum not beino^ 
necessarily involved. Many experiments showing this 
independence of cerebral control in reflex movement 
have been made in laboratories by the use of frogs and 
other animals of low order. The cerebral hemispheres 
are removed and the frog suspended by his lip. If 
then a brush or pencil be dipped in strong acid and 
touched to his side, causing an imtation, the foot on that 

38 



REPLEX ACTIOiT , 39 

side will be raised to scratch away the irritant. If the 
foot be restrained by any means, the other foot will then 
attempt to remove the offending agent. If the body of a 
milhped or "thousand-legged worm" be cut in segments, 
each segment will continue to travel for a time, till its 
vitality is exhausted. The brains of pigeons may be 
removed, and the birds will still respond to proper stimu- 
lation with appropriate movements, all void of intelli- 
gence. 

Nerve Cells connected by Interlacing Nerve Network 




Afferent Nerve Fiber // U Efferent Nerve Fib« 



Sensory ^TV^W ^^3 Muscle 

Epithelium 



Fig. 6. Diagram of Reflex Action. 
{From Colton's Physiology.) 

Reflex Action in Man. — In human experience, reflex 
action may be illustrated by tickling the bare foot of a 
sleeping boy. If this be done without awakening him, 
the first result may be a simple withdrawal of the foot. 
If the stimulation be increased, the central discharge may 
become more vigorous, and he will kick out. These 
movements will involve the discharge only of a center in 
the lower part of the spinal cord. If the irritation of the 



40 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

nerve ends in the foot be still further increased, the 
ingoing current may reach a center in the upper part of 
the cord, controlling arm moyements, and the boy, still 
sleeping, may strike out with his arms. It is possible, 
even, that parts of the brain may be roused to action and 
groans or other vocal results may follow, the boy still 
remaining unconscious. 

Sneezing, coughing, winking, swallowing, jumping or 
crying out when suddenly startled, as by the report of a 
fire-cracker or the slamming of a door, are familiar 
examples of reflex action. 

Common MisconccjHions. — It is a very common error to 
assume that all reflex action is unconscious. We are, in 
most cases, conscious of the act after or during its per- 
formance, as in jumping at a sudden noise. But we are 
often, also, conscious of the reflex action before it begins. 
In the case of coughing, for instance, Ave are usually fore- 
warned and strive to prevent or suppress the action, but 
in vain. The irritation is so efficient that the action goes 
on to its natural termination in spite of our inhibiting 
efl'ort. Another error consists in supposing that reflex 
action excludes all activity or participation of the brain. 
In the case of winking, the action is usually purely reflex, 
and yet it can have no relation to the spinal cord. Some 
part of the brain must make the reflex response to the 
irritation of the eyeball. 

The essential characteristics of reflex action are two; it 
must (1) be externally stimulated by some physical cause; 
and (2) it must not be intentional, or purposely done. 
Keflex action is only one form, but the typical form, of 
involuntary action. Its nature may be summed up as 
follows: Eeflex action must be externally stimulated, 
may he unconscious, may or may not involve some part of 
the brain, but must he without intention, or the mandate 



REFLEX ACTION 41 

of the will. The act of walking, so often given as an 
example of reflex action, is not truly such, but only sec- 
ondarily automatic. 

Spontaneous^ or Impulsive Action. — It may be noted 
that some of the movements of earliest infancy, as the 
aimless movements of arms and legs, kicking and squirm- 
ing, do not answer to the above definition of reflex action, 
because not externally stimulated. They must, neverthe- 
less, be produced by the discharge of nerve centers, orig- 
inating motor currents. The same is true of the involun- 
tary movements accompanying chorea, or "St. Vitus's 
dance." We infer, therefore, that they are due to weak- 
ness of the nerve centers, resulting in "leakage," or 
premature discharge. The same explanation may perhaps 
be made of the fidgeting and twiddling of hands and feet 
so often observable in "nervous" persons. These move- 
ments of the infant are called Spontaneous, or Impulsive 
movements, in distinction from reflex movements in the 
stricter sense of the term. 

Summary. — The mgoing current set up by the stimulation of 
a nerve end may set up a motor current from one of the lower 
centers, resulting in muscular movements without mental control, 
and known as reflex action. These reflex movements are alwaj^s 
externally stimulated; they may or may not be unconscious, but 
are wholly witliout intention or control of the will. 

Those reflex actions involving activity of the cranial nerves 
center in the basal parts of the brain; those due to stimulation of 
the spinal nerves involve no activity of the brain, but are con- 
trolled by centers in the spinal cord. 

Spontaneous, or impulsive actions, as in the aimless movements 
of infancy, are not externally stimulated, but are due to weakness 
or "leakage" of nerve centers. 

The semi-conscious movements of walking are not truly reflex, 
but only secondarily automatic. 



CHAPTER IX 

SENSATION 

Sensation. — When the nerve current set up by exter- 
nal stimulation passes the lower centers without being 
** reflected" and, reaching some part of the brain, affects 
it with sufficient force, there follows a mental result or 
feeling which is called Sensation. This result is too 
simple and elementary to admit of satisfactory definition; 
but we may say that Sensation is tlie first and simplest 
7nental result of the stimulation of an incarrying nerve. 
It may or may not be followed by muscular action; but it 
is invariably accompanied by other mental activities, the 
consideration of which may be deferred for the present. 

The Conditions of Sensation. — The necessary conditions 
of sensation are (1) a physical stimulus acting upon the 
nerve ends, (2) a physiological process involving changes 
in the nerve ends, the connecting nerves, and the brain, 
(3) the rousing of the mind to consciousness. Between 
the first two of these, we trace a direct and comprehensible 
connection; but between the last two, brain and mind, 
the connection is involved in mystery. Just ^l0^v activity 
of the brain can bring about activity of the mind is a 
question which Psychology cannot answer, and Philosophy 
wrestles with in vain. But the uniform connection or 
concomitance between brain stimulation and sensation is 
a fact which admits of no question. Emphasis must be 
laid, at this point, upon the fact that sensation is a mental 
and not a physical fact. Sensations are in the mind and 

42 



SENSATION . 43 

not in the various parts of the body. One says that he 
has a pain in his toe, and so it surely seems to the unso- 
phisticated person ; but that is purely a matter of associa- 
tion. The nerve ends are in the toe, but the pain is in 
the mind only. 

We must also carefully refrain from speaking of . sensa- 
tions as traveling or being "carried" from the periphery 
to the brain. Sensations cannot travel. Nerve currents 
pass from periphery to center; but sensations, never. 
We need, therefore, to distinguish between sensations, 
which are psychical, and nerve-impressions, which are 
physical. They may be thought of as having their point 
of contact in the cerebrum. 

Tlie Threshold of Sensation. — The stimulation of a sen- 
sory nerve may be inadequate and the resulting brain event 
too weak to produce a result in consciousness. Doubtless 
many stimuli are acting on our nervous system all the 
tim3 of which, for various reasons, we are not conscious. 
The brain change must havo a sufficient degree of vigor 
in order that sensation may follow. The mind seems to 
have a sort of inertia which must be overcome ; and the 
level at which stimulation begins to affect consciousness 
has been denominated the Threshold of Sensation. Many 
stimuli are unable to cross this threshold, and yet they 
may collectively produce important effects upon our moods 
or general conditions of mind. This is especially true of 
nerve currents arising in the visceral organs. The 
threshold of sensation is very variable, being widely differ- 
ent in different persons or in the same person at different 
times. It is, for instance, much higher, or more difficult 
to cross, under conditions of extreme fatigue. 

Quantity and Quality of Sensations. — Sensations differ 
greatly among themselves both in Quantity and Quality. 
In point of quantity, they may differ in intensity or 



44 THE TEIEORY OF TEACHING 

extensity. Intensity of sensation may be illustrated by 
the case of a deep pin-prick or a drop of boiling water on 
the skin; extensity, by the feeling arising from putting 
one's whole arm under water. The snap of an electric 
spark is intense; the rumble of thunder creates a feeling 
of extent. In either case, differences in quantity of sen- 
sation are due only to the force of the stimulus. Differ- 
ences in quality, as the difference between sensations of 
sight and taste, are due primarily to differences in the 
structure and susceptibility of the nerve ends, or sense 
organs, which enable them to respond to specific stimuli 
only. Thus the nerve ends of the eye respond only to 
the stimulation of ether- waves with certain degrees of 
rapidity in vibration, while the nerve ends of smell 
respond only to the contact of certain substances in the 
gaseous form. These differences in the sense organs and 
their susceptibility to specific stimuli lead to the classifi- 
cation of sensations into several groups, on that basis, and 
give rise to the familiar term, the Senses. 

Tlie Senses. — What is a Sense? A sense is not an organ 
or group of nerve-ends, but a power of the mind. A sense 
is the mind's power to receive impressions of the outer 
world by means of a particular set of nerves, or part of 
the nervous system. For example, the sense of smell is 
the mind's power to be impressed through the agency of 
the olfactory nerves and their special connections in the 
brain. 

The senses may be separated for study into two groups, 
General and Special. The Special senses are those whose 
end organs are highly specialized in structure and func- 
tion, being thus responsive to one peculiar kind of stimu- 
lus. What are usually known as the Five Senses, viz., 
Touch, Taste, Smell, Sight, and Hearing, belong to this 
group. To this list, however, we must add the Muscular 



SENSATION 45 

•Sense, at least, which was formerly, not discriminated 
from Touch. The so-called General Sensibility includes 
all those sensations which arise in the bodily organism at 
large, and especially in the various tissues of the body, 
without definitely specialized end organs. The pleasure 
and pain quality, or tone, is especially prominent in con- 
nection with these sensations, which are often grouped 
together under the name of the Organic Sense. 

The senses, again, may be arranged in two groups with 
reference to the service which they render, one group 
being devoted chiefly to the service of the body, through 
the indications which they convey of its conditions; the 
other serving, chiefly, the ends of the mind. These are 
the knowledge-giving senses, and thus are given higher 
rank, though no more vitally necessary than the body- 
serving senses. 

Summary. — Sensation is the first mental result of the stimvila- 
tion of an incarrying nerve. Its necessary conditions are (1) a 
physical stimulus, (2) a physiological stimulus reaching the brain, 
and (3) the conscious reaction of the mind. 

Sensations exist only in the mind, and are not "carried"; nerve 
impulses "travel." 

The level at which nerve stimulation begins to affect conscious- 
ness is called the threshold of sensation; it differs under different 
conditions and in different persons. 

Sensations differ in quantity and quality. Differences in quan- 
tity are due to the intensity or extensity of the stimulus; differ- 
ences m quality are due to differences in the end organs and in 
the specific stimuli to which they respond. 

A sense is the mind's power to receive knowledge of the outer 
world by means of some particular set of nerves. 

The senses are grouped as general and special; they may also 
be classified as those which serve the body and those which give 
knowledge in greater measure. 



CHAPTER X 

THE BODY-SERVING SENSES 

Organic Sensations. — The Organic Sense comprises all 
those sensations which arise from disturbed or changing 
states of the various organs of the body, and which fur- 
nish indications of the condition of those organs. They 
include sensations arising from the alimentary tract, as 
hu7iger, thirst, nausea, and the feeling of repletion; those 
from the respiratory system, as the feeling of '' closeness,^ ^ 
suffocation; those arising from destruction of tissue or 
diseased conditions, as headache, toothache, rheumatic 
twinges, and all the category of bodily aches and hurts, 
including fatigue. Here, also, we place those undefined, 
systemic feelings whose presence one indicates by saying 
that he "feels first-rate" or feels "dull," "dumpish," or 
"out of tune." A general characteristic of all the organic 
sensations, along with their pleasure-and-pain quality, is 
their indefiniteness. The difficulty of locating their 
physical source is illustrated in the case of persons who 
have had the wrong tootn pulled throug'h incorrect 
response to the dentist's questions, and also in the famil- 
iar difficulty of locating the exact spot of a dull rheumatic 
pain. The man who was "so thin that he could not te.l 
a back- ache from a stomach-ache" need not have been 
diaphanous by any means. 

The utility of these sensations is evident as indexes of 
our physical conditions, the soundness of our tissues and 
organs, and our bodily needs. The painful tone so often 

46 



THE BODY-SERVING SENSES 47 

characteristic of these sensations is the needed whip to 
compel attention to our physical dangers and necessities, 
to send ns to the dentist or hold ns back from excesses 
and imprudence. The organic sense is the health officer 
of our bodies. 

The Thermal Sense. — Next to the organic sense in its 
generality, is the Thermal, or Temperature Sense, yielding 
the sensations of heat and cold. This sense was formerly 
not distinguished from that of touch, for the reason that 
its nerve ends are distributed through the skin. But 
experimentation finally established the fact that these 
sensations arise from the excitation of separate nerve ends 
devoted to this purpose. Some of these are susceptible 
only to contacts of relatively high temperature, and are 
known as heat spots; others only to contacts of low tem- 
perature, and are known as cold spots. These are closely 
interspersed throughout the skin, but may be located by 
the use of a metal pencil or needle. If this, when heated, 
be touched to a '*cold spot," only the sensation of contact 
will be felt; the same will be true if a cold point touches 
a "heat spot." It should be remembered that "heat and 
cold are only skin deep." The temperature of the blood, 
and consequently of the flesh, does not vary greatly with 
the changes of atmospheric temperature. The tempera- 
ture of the blood is confined within the range from 95° to 
106° Fahrenheit, the normal temperature being from 97° 
to 98.5°, Sydney Smith, on a hot day, wished to "take 
off his flesh and sit in his bones. " It would have answered 
as well to take off his skin only. 

The Sense of Taste. — Next in the service of the body, 
may be named the Sense of Taste. Its end organs are 
found in the little projections, or papillae, which give 
roughness to the surface of the tongue, and which enclose 
minute structures known as taste buds. As the nerve- 



48 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

ends are buried within these taste buds, they can be 
reached and stimulated only by soluble substances, which 
must first be reduced to liquid form. These liquids then 
penetrate the outer covering of the papillae and in some 
way, probably by chemical changes, aft'ect the ends of the 
gustatory nerve. It will thus be seen that in drinking a 
glass of lemonade we actually taste only so much of it as 
soaks into the taste bnds. This gives us the philosophy 
of using a straw in drinking such beverages. 

The principal sensations of taste are four, sweety sour, 
salt, and hitter. These may be called the "cardinal 
points" of taste. Besides these and their combinations, 
which constitute the true tastes, other sensations, which 
have been called "mechanical effects," are connected with 
contacts on the tongue. Among these are the sensations 
called '''2)uckery^^ and ^'hot,''^ such as those produced by 
pepper, alcohol, tobacco, tannin, etc. Alum, for instance, 
has a true taste (sour) ; but this is soon overpowered by the 
mechanical effect of "puckering." Ripe choke-cherries 
are sweet to the taste, but one has short space to realize 
that before the intense "puckering" sensation follows. 
The root of Indian turnip (Jack in the Pulpit) produces 
an intense prickling sensation. All these "mechanical 
effects" belong really to the class of organic sensations. 
The tongue is also an organ of touch, the tip of the 
tongue being more sensitive to contacts than any other 
surface of the body. 

Smell . — The Sense of Smell has its end-organs in two 
small patches of mucous membrane hidden away in the 
upper cavities of the nose, called the nares. In these, are 
distributed the ends of the olfactory nerves. They are 
reached only by substances in the gaseous form or so finely 
powdered as to float in the atmosphere. These nerve ends 
are extremely sensitive and may be stimulated by incon- 



THE BODY-SERVING SENSES 



49 



It has been calculated 



ro-ffoooooo- of a grain of musk can be distinctly 



ceivably small portions of matter. 

that -foff-Qo 

smelled ; and a substance called mercaptan can be smelled 

in still more minute quantities. 



Olfactory Bulb 



Olfactory Nerves 




Turbinated Bones 



Fig. 7. The Organ of Smell. 
{From Colto7i's Physiology.) 

The true smells, or odors, are many in number, but have 
no definite names like those of the true tastes. They are 
commonly classified only as agreeable and disagreeable. 
A certain group of smells are called aromatic, but there 
are few smell words of definite signification. Connected 
with the organ of smell, are also a number of mechanical 
effects, without, however, much well-defined difference 
in the mental result. Ammonia, camphor, the volatile 
juices of certain vegetables, as horse-radish and onions, 
when in contact with the mucous membrane of the nares, 
produce sneezing and even more vigorous effects, like 
strangling. Similar results follow the contact of pungent 
powders floating in the air, as snuff, pepper, and even 
dust. But these results are quite distinct from sensations 
of smell. The same is probably true of the effects pro- 
duced by the air of a "close" room. 



60 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

Confusion of Taste and Smell. — The confusion of taste 
and smell is a very common experience. Many substances, 
as fruits and cake or confectionery containing certain 
"flavoring extracts," as vanilla, peppermint, etc., when 
taken into the mouth and subjected to its heat and 
moisture and the process of chewing, give off vapors 
which rise from the pharynx into the upper cavities of 
the nose and produce sensations of smell. These, occur- 
ring in such close connection with real sensations of taste, 
are not discriminated from them, and all go in as "taste." 
The so-called cooking extracts have no true tastes, bat 
only their respective odors and certain mechanical effects 
due to the alcohol which they contain. The taste of 
onions is sweetish, where any exists; their chief charac- 
teristic, even in the mouth, being their odor and the 
"strong" mechanical effect. If the nasal passages be 
properly obstructed, one cannot distinguish by taste alone 
peppermint or wintergreen lozenges from each other or 
from those without any "flavoring" element. 

Uses of Taste and Smell. — Taste and smell are the 
"sentinels of the stomach." While affording some 
knowledge of the properties of substances, it is yet chiefly 
those properties which are of importance to our internal 
economy. Comparatively, smell is of the greater impor- 
tance, not only because it reaches farther, is affected by 
more distant objects, but also because it more effectively 
warns us of dangerous properties or conditions, as of 
smoke, injurious gases, and foods or other substances in a 
state of decomposition. 

It must not be overlooked, however, that an important 
function of these senses is pleasure-giving. The delights 
of the table, our enjoyment of fruits and sweets, is 
paralleled by our pleasure in the perfumes of flowers. Of 
course, this is partly counterbalanced by the suffering to 



THE BODY-SERVING SENSES 51 

which ill-smelling substances subject us. It may'there- 
fore be remarked that the body-serving senses affect, more 
or less, the emotional side of our mental life. And as we 
rise in the series from the organic sensations to smell, this 
emotional result becomes more refined and more capable 
of intellectual discrimination. 

Summary. — The senses especially devoted to self-preservation 
and the service of the body are the organic sense, the thermal 
sense, taste, and smell. 

The organic sense comprises sensations arising from the ali- 
mentary tract and various other organs, including the pains of 
disease. They are characterized by indefiniteness, along with 
their pleasure-and-pain quality. 

The thermal, or temperature, sense is distinguished from touch 
by its use of a distinct set of nerve ends known as heat and cold 
spots. 

The sensations of true taste are sweet, bitter, sour, and salt; 
but certam organic sensations, or mechanical effects, arise in the 
covering of the tongue, as ''puckery" and "burning." 

Sensations of smell, or odors, are many, but lack distinctive 
names; they also are closely related, locally, to certain mechanical 
effects, as sneezing, produced by pungent vapors and powders. 

The confusion of taste and smell is a common experience, as in 
the eating of many fruits and in the use of flavoring extracts. 

Taste and smell are the sentinels of the stomach, but also have 
an important function as sources of pleasure and pain. 



CHAPTER XI 

THE KNOWLEDGE-GIVING SENSES 

The Muscular Sense. — The most fundamental of the 
knowledge-giving senses is that known as the Muscular 
Sense. This and the Sense of Touch are so intimately 
related that they were formerly not discriminated; and 
some eminent psychologists attempt, even now, to dis- 
pense with or explain away the muscular sense. It 
seems clearly entitled, however, to a distinct name and 
treatment. The principal forms of muscular sensation 
are those of movement and resistance. Both measure, 
in a way, the amount of muscular energy which is being 
expended at a given instant, as in the "hefting" of 
bodies. The sensations of effort and movement are, 
nevertheless, quite other than the act of muscular con- 
traction; they are me7ital. We are able, without the aid 
of other senses, to discern the fact of muscular movement, 
its direction and distance. We are, in like manner, able 
to discriminate the amount of nervous energy put forth 
to overcome resistance, whether it be in the form of 
weight, where the force of gravity must be actively 
resisted, or in that of hardness^ rigidity^ etc., where our 
effort is passively resisted by material objects. Cooper- 
ating with this consciousness of muscular strain are also, 
no doubt, feelings resulting from the friction of the joints 
and of moving muscles under the skin; but these are 
secondary. 

The sensations of fatigue are not to be classified under 

52 



THE KNOWLEDGE-GIVING SENSES 53 

this sense, from the fact that they are due to disintegra- 
tion of tissue, overloading the blood with waste matter, 
and not to the present tension of nerves or muscles. 

Ideas Derived from Muscidar Sensations. — It is by these 
distinctions of nervous strain that we first discern the 
position of external bodies with reference to ourselves and 
learn the fundamental properties of matter. The infant 
reaches for the moon as readily as for the watch dangled 
before his eyes; but by experiment, both through failure 
and success, he learns in due time what distance and 
direction mean in terms of muscular effort. It seems very 
possible that the first infantile consciousness is, after all^ 
the consciousness of resistance, of obstructed muscular 
effort. Through these various muscular sensations, arise 
ideas of motion, extension, weight, hardness, rigidity, 
distance, and direction. 

The muscular sense is thus of great importance to our 
mental life, giving us the original data for our knowledge 
of spatial relations and the fundamental propei'ties of 
matter, the foundation, in short, for our knowledge of 
geometry and physics. As the organic sense is of primary 
importance to the body, the indispensable means of its 
preservation and welfare, so the muscular sense is funda- 
mental to our acquaintance with the external world. 

THE SENSE OF TOUCH 

The Sense of Touch has its end organs distributed 
throughout the several layers of the skin, including the 
lining of the mouth and the covering of the tongue. 
These are of several different forms, namely, (1) Touch 
cells, (2) Pacinian corpuscles, (3) Tactile corpuscles, 
(4) End bulbs. Some of these are quite complicated in 
structure, as may be seen from the accompanying illus- 
tration. 



54 



THE THEORY OF TEACHING 




jaF! 



Fig. 8. Section of a 

Papilla of the Skin, 

Showing a Touch 

Corpuscle. 



These end organs are more sensitive or more numerous 
in certain parts of the skin than others. The finger tips, 
the tip of the tongue, and the edges 
of the lips are the most sensitive parts. 
The sensitiveness of the finger tips, es- 
pecially, is developed to a wonderful 
degree in the case of the blind, with 
whom touch most largely takes the 
place of sight. 

It has been thought by some biolo- 
gists that touch is the original special 
sense, out of which the others have 
been developed. Thus it has been said 
that "the first eye was only a sore spot 
in the skin." 

The sensations of touch proper are 
only those of contact and pressure, and 
pressure may be considered only as degree, or intensity, 
of contact. Extremely slight contacts are discernible, 
while severe pressure may result in such a degree of the 
pain quality, or tone, as to overpower the discriminative 
activity, or discernment of differences. 

Intellectual Service of the Sense of Touch. — Sensations 
of touch are often highly pleasurable, as in various forms 
of caressing; yet their predominating value is cognitive. 
Thus we derive from contact, first, the idea of extension, 
and thus also of superficial form. This comes through 
what is known as "plurality of points," that is, through 
the number of points of stimulation, or of nerve ends, 
excited. The idea of motion may also be derived from 
the succession of stimulated points, as when we draw a 
pencil point across the skin, or in the progress of a fly or 
other creeping thing across the cuticle. From plurality 
of points, we also derive ideas of surface, as roughiiess and 



THE KNOWLEDGE-GIVING SENSES 55 

smootJmess, the rough surface being that in which the 
projecting points are relatively few and far apart, as in a 
rough-plastered wall contrasted with a polished surface. 
Some idea of weight may also be derived, as when a weight 
is placed on the back of a hand supported by a table. 
The pressing of the skin over the bones and knuckles may 
afford some criterion of the weight of the superimposed 
body. 

Localization of Tactile Sensations. — The most interest- 
ing problem in connection with touch sensation is that of 
localization. How are we able to determine the precise 
point of our bodily surface on which an external body, as 
a pin or a mosquito, is impinging? This is explained by 
what is ealled the ''doctrine of local signs. " The infant 
is, at first, wholly unable to localize contacts or any other 
impressions, but through the agency of his aimless, spon- 
taneous movements, and the resulting contacts and reac- 
tions, along with the coincidence of muscular and ocular 
sensations, he comes in time, through many experiences, 
to learn the geography of his skin. Each particular part 
of the skin is supposed to yield, under stimulation, its own 
peculiar '*feel," which comes to be, unconsciously at last, 
both discriminated and firmly associated with its own 
non- interchangeable place of origin. We cannot now 
recall the great. labor which was involved in forming these 
associations; but it was all accomplished in a time in 
which we had not much else to do. 

Tlie accuracy of this localizing power varies greatly with 
different areas of the skin. This may be tested by touch- 
ing the skin at two points simultaneously, as with the 
points of a pair of compasses or scissors, and noting the 
distance between them necessary to produce a conscious- 
ness of two contacts. This distance is least on the tip of 
the tongue, where it is only four hundredths of an inch, 



5G THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

whereas, on the middle of the back the points must be 
over two inches apart in order to be distinguished as two. 

Active Touch. — Some consideration may profitably be 
given to that familiar but often unrecognized cooperation 
of touch and the muscular sense which has received the 
distinctive appellation of Active Touch. Touch seldom 
works alone to accomplish intellectual results. For 
instance, we determine the character of surfaces not by 
simple contact but by moving the hand over the surface. 
The blind man discovers the form of objects by a com- 
bination of movement, contact, and resistance. The 
nerve ends of muscles and skin are brought into active 
operation at the same time. The blind man guides him- 
self along familiar ways by means of a cane; but this, 
again, brings into simultaneous activity and cooperation 
the nerres of touch and the muscular sense. It is hardly 
possible, in fact, to bring the muscles into activity with- 
out involving some activity of the organs of touch; and 
these, in turn, are dependent on the muscles for their 
opportunity to act. 

This distinction between active touch, a double sense so 
to speak, and passive touch, or touch proper, is one which 
should be clearly grasped and held in mind, lest the am- 
biguity of the term touch involve us at times in confusion. 

The value and importance of active touch is empha- 
sized by the fact that it is so often employed as a court of 
appeal from the other senses. "There are ghosts to all 
senses but one"; but whatever seems real to the touch 
has met the supreme test of reality. "Let me take hold 
of it," is our demand when we distrust our other senses. 

Summary. — The most fundamental of the knowledge-giving 
senses is the muscular sense, which yields sensations of movement 
and resistance. From these are derived our ideas of spatial rela- 
tions and the fundamental properties of matter. 



THE Kl^OWLEDGE-GlVING SENSES 57 

The sense of touch, strictly speaking, is dependent on nerve 
ends in the skin, and gives rise only to sensations of contact and 
pressure. 

From these are derived ideas of extension, motion, form, and 
surface. 

Our ability to localize contacts on the various parts of the skin 
is explained by the hypothesis of "local signs." 

The sense of touch acts so commonly in conjunction with the 
muscular sense that they are often conveniently spoken of as one, 
under the name of active touch. Thus cooperating, they furnish 
the final test of illusions in connection with other senses. 



CHAPTER XII 

THE SENSE OF HEARING 

The Organ of Hearing. — The organ of Hearing \s the 
ear. The stimulus capable of exciting it is found in 
waves, or vibrations, of air, within certain limits of velocity. 
The external ear, or concha^ has little importance in hear- 
ing. The auditory canal is closed at its inner end by a 
membrane called the tympanic membrane, behind which 
is the tympanum, or drum, of the ear. This cavity is 
spanned by a chain of minute bones, called respectively the 
malleus^ or hammer; the incus^ or anvil; and the stapes, 
or stirrup. The malleus has an arm, or lever,. the end 
of which is attached to the middle of the tympanic 
membrane. When the vibrations of air beat upon this 
membrane they are transmitted, causing the incus to 
waggle. It, too, has an arm, or lever, which moves the 
stapes back and forth, like a little piston, into the foramen 
ovalis, or doorway to the inner ear. The tympanic cavity, 
or middle ear, is connected with the pharynx by the 
Eustachian tube, which enables an equilibrium to be 
maintained between the atmospheric pressure within the 
tympanum and that outside. 

The Inner Ear. — The inner ear, or lahyrinth, is a very 
intricate affair. It comprises three parts, the vestibule, 
the cochlea, and the seinicircular canals^ which are, pri- 
marily, chambers or cavities in the temporal bone. The 
vestibule is the central chamber with which the other two 
communicate, and into which the oval foramen opens. 

58 



THE SENSE OP HEARING 



59 



The semicircular canals are three hollow loops set in 
planes at right angles with one another. The cochlea is a 
spiral canty, like the inside of certain spiral shells. Each 
of these bony cavities contains within it a membranous 
sac of corresponding form, known as the membranous 
cochlea and canals. These are surrounded by a fluid 
called the ^^erllympli^ which fills the bony chamber, and 




Fig. 9. Section of the Eae,. 

M, concha; G, auditory canal; T, tympanic membrane ; P, tympanic cavity; 

o, oval foramen, or fenestra; V, vestibule; B, a semicircular canal; 

S, the cochlea; R, Eustachian tube; Vt, scala vestibuli; 

Pt, scala tympani; A, auditory nerve. 

are filled by a similar fluid called the endolymph. The 
vestibule contains a double membranous sac, one part 
connecting with the cochlea and the other with the canals, 
while the two parts are connected by a small opening. 
The connection of the semicircular canals with hearing 
seems quite enigmatical. Eecent investigation seems to 
assign them functions as a distinct sense organ for the 



60 



THE THEORY OF TEACHING 



Sense of Equilibrium. This receives a degree of corrobo- 
ration from the form of the organ itself, which seems 
qualified to act something like a group of spirit-levels set 
in three different planes. A disturbance in the perilymph 
of the canals seems, moreover, to produce a sensation of 
dizziness, as in whirling about rapidly, in swinging, and 
in falling. Slighter disturbances are sufficient to warn us 
that the body is getting "out of plumb." 

The Cochlea. — The cochlea, which contains the ends of 
the auditory nerve, is extremely complicated in its inter- 
nal structure and contents. The bony chamber or tube is 

divided, partly by a spi- 
ral shelf following the 
windings of the tube 
and partly by the basilar 
membrane which ex- 
tends from the edge of 
the shelf to the outside 
of the tube, into two 
channels, the scala ves- 
tihidi and the scala 
tymjKini. The membra- 
nous cochlea, sometimes 
called the scala media, lies between these, the basilar mem- 
brane constituting its floor, so to speak. The scala ves- 
tibuli and scala tympani, thus separated, communicate at 
the top and are filled with the perilymph. Along the 
edge of the spiral shelf and connected with the basilar 
membrane, are arranged minute bodies known as cuhoidal 
cells, Jiair cells, and the rods of Corti. All these are con- 
tained within the tube of the membranous cochlea, and 
are surrounded by the endolymph. They constitute the 
terminal apparatus of the auditory nerve. This arrange- 
ment is too intricate to be described here; but the ele- 




FiG. 10. A Section Through the 
Cochlea. 



THE SEKSE OE HEARlKa 61 

ments of this apparatus are able to respond to all those 
differences in the stimuli which make possible the great 
variety of sounds, musical and otherwise. 

The Physical Process of Hearing . — We may now trace, 
hastily, the process by which these nerve-ends are reached 
from the outer world and set into action. Air waves 
impinge upon the tympanic membrane and communicate 
their motion to it. This vibration is communicated, in 
turn, to the suspended, lever -like ossicles of the middle 
ear. The stapes, or stirrup-bone, plays into the foramen 
ovalis, and so sets up waves in the perilymph of the 
vestibule. The waves, or vibrations, of the perilymph 
spread upwards through the scala vestibuU, returning 
downwards through the scala ti/7)ij)a7ii. In their down- 
ward course through the scala ti/fnj^ajii, they ruffle the 
under side of the basilar membrane. They also commu- 
nicate their motion through the walls of the membranous 
sac to the endolymph, which is thus set into similar vibra- 
tions, which, in turn, affect the fibers of the basilar 
membrane, which are of various lengths and have been 
thought to resemble in function the strings of a piano. 
On this theory, the rods of Corti are thought to act like 
the dampers of a piano. 

This excitation of these organs results in sensory cur- 
rents along the fibers of the auditory nerve. These 
currents excite the auditory centers of the brain, and 
sensations of sound follow. A more wonderful and deli- 
cate apparatus than this of hearing, involving so many 
and such various organs, and so hidden away and pro- 
tected from even the minute pulsations of the outer air, 
it is beyond the power of mind to conceive. In fact, the 
human nervous system, in all its relations, is the greatest 
of all miracles and a source of ever-increasing astonish- 
ment to the thoughtful student. 



62 THE THEOEY OF TEACHING 

The Physics of Sound. — As we have drawn upon Physi- 
ology to elucidate the process of hearing, in even its 
simplest form, we must now seek the aid of Physics in 
order to comprehend the great variety of auditory phe- 
nomena. 

The sensations resulting from the process just described, 
and known collectively as sound, are classified as noises 
and tones. Tones are those sounds which result from a 
uniform rate of vibration in the outer stimulus, this rate 
varying for different tones from 32 to 38,000 per second. 
Noises result from irregular rates or confusion of vibra- 
tions. Tones are also known as musical sounds. They 
are often accompanied, and even obscured, by attendant 
noises. Thus a cataract, or a machine m operation, has 
its fundamental tone, or keynote, which may not be 
noticed by the inattentive person because of the attendant 
noises — rumblings or splashings — so much more promi- 
nent. The articulate sounds of human speech, also, have 
their respective fundamental tones, attended by noises 
due to friction of the breath against the teeth or other 
mouth-parts, and often predominating over the tone. 

The Properties of Tone. — All tones have certain proper- 
ties, as pitchy lotidtiess, and imire. Pitch is due to the 
rate of vibration in the sound waves. The lowest discern- 
ible pitch, or key, results from a rate of thirty-two, or, 
with some ears, sixteen vibrations per second. The 
*' octave" of any tone results from a rate of vibration 
twice as great. The ''middle 0" of our musical scale has 
a vibratory rate of 256 per second. The highest note 
recognizable as a musical tone has, as already stated, a 
rate of about 38,000 per second. 

Loudness of tone results from the amplitude, or breadth, 
of the sound waves. Timbre, or quality of tone, as shown 
in various musical instruments and the great variety of 



THE SENSE OF HEARING 63 

human voices, is attributed to differences in the form of 
sound waves. 

When tones of different pitch are heard simultaneously, 
the compound result may prove agreeable or disagreeable. 
If agreeable to the normal ear, it is called concord, or 
harmony; if disagreeable, a discord. Harmony results 
from a simple relation, or ratio, between the rates of 
vibration of the constituent tones. Thus, if the ratio is 
1:2, we have only a tone and its octave. If the ratio 
were, say, 11 : 27, the result would be discordant. In 
what is known as the tonic chord, one, three, five, and 
eight of the scale, the ratios of vibration are 1, |, |, 2. 

Another element of music is rhythm, or time, of which 
some mention will be made a little farther on. 

Ideas Given hy Hearing. — From its relation to music, 
the sense of hearing is largely a pleasure-giving sense, yet, 
through the aid of mental association, it becomes the 
mother of language and indispensable to the development 
and communication of ideas. It also aids somewhat in. 
determining our space relations to the external environ= 
ment. We discern the direction of sounding bodies with 
some accuracy under favoring conditions. This is due to 
the fact that we have two ears and both are stimulated, 
but unequally, by the same sound waves. We measure 
the comparative intensity of the two effects, and so infer 
the direction of the source. If this be directly in our 
front or rear, the effects will be equal; and we must then 
rotate the head in search of a difference in effect. Persons 
deaf in one ear have great difficulty in determining the 
direction of sounds. 

The distance of sounding objects may be inferred with 
some accuracy when the exact nature or cause of the 
sound is familiar, through its comparative loudness ; but 
the distance of unfamiliar sounds is largely a matter of 



64 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

conjecture. We come, also, to associate the peculiar 
timbre of familiar sounds with the other properties of the 
bodies producing them, and so are able to infer their 
character and identity with more or less confidence. 

Most psjchologists seem to consider hearing as the 
original source of our ideas of time, doubtless from its 
intimate connection with the rhythm of music. While a 
poet may speak of lying awake "to hear time flowing in 
the middle of the night," the prosaic fact remains that 
we cannot hear time. It would rather seem that our 
primary consciousness of time must be connected with the 
muscular sense and muscular activity. If not, why is 
*' beating time" with hand or foot so necessary to regulate 
the rhythm in musical exercises? 

Hoiu Hearing Serves tlie Mind. — In smell, we come to 
the first sense which can be affected by objects not in 
direct contact with the organism. In hearing, we find 
this range greatly increased, as the air waves which stim- 
ulate the ear may travel along distance before losing their 
force. The writer of this heard the discharge of artillery 
in the battles about Atlanta at a distance of one hundred 
miles. 

The direct know^ledge of the external world given by 
this sense is comparatively small; but it is here that we 
find the great means of thought communication, the indi- 
rect contact of mind with mind. It is through the audi- 
tory sensations of oral language that this contact is 
effected; and it is this fact which especially dignifies the 
sense of hearing. It, furthermore, through the service of 
music, lifts the emotional experience of man to a higher 
plane than any of the senses thus far considered. 

Summary. — The organ of hearing is an exceedingly intricate 
and sensitive apparatus; its nerve ends are found in the cochlea 
of the inner ear. 



THE SENSE OF HEARING 65 

The external air waves set up a vibratory motion in the tym- 
panic membrane, which is passed along by the ossicles of tlie middle 
ear to the perilymph. Waves in the perilymph ascend and descend 
the channels of the bony cochlea and commmiicate their motion to 
the basilar membrane and endolymph, thus stimulating the deli- 
cate organs inside the membranovis cochlea. These, by means 
of the auditory nerve, excite the brain. 

The sensations of hearing are classified as noises and tones. 
Tones are sounds resulting from vibrations of a uniform time rate; 
noises result from irregular and conflicting vibrations. The 
properties of tone are pitch, loudness, and timbre, or quality. 

Pitch results from the rapidity of vibration, which ranges from 
32 to 38,000 per second. 

The ideas directly derived from hearing are few, but itb indirect 
service to the mind through oral language is incalculable, while it 
ranks very high in its service to the emotional nature through 
music. 



CHAPTER XIII 

THE SENSE OF SIGHT 

The Organ of Sight. — The organ of sight is a seemingly 
more simple but no less wonderful instrument than the 
organ of hearing. The enclosing envelope, or eyeball, 
consists of three coats or layers. The outer, called the 
Sclerotic coat, is a tough, white membrane, which 
encloses the eye except in front, where the transparent 
cornea takes its place, like the crystal of a watch set in its 
case. Next within is the Choroid coat, a thin, black coat 
of great delicacy. In front, it is modified into the curtain 
called the Iris, the circular opening in which is called the 
Pupil. The iris contains certain muscles by the contrac- 
tion of which the pupil may be dilated or contracted. The 
third, or inner coat, called the Retina, covers only the 
back portion of the eyeball, having the form of a cup or 
bowl. 

The space within these envelopes is filled by certain 
transparent refracting media: (1) Immediately back of 
the cornea is a watery fluid called the Aqueous Humor. 

(2) Next, is the Crystalline Lens, a double convex lens of 
a jelly-like substance having considerable elasticity and 
enclosed in a capsule attached to the Suspensory Ligament. 

(3) The space between the crystalline lens and the retina 
is filled by a semisolid substance called the Vitreous 
Hnmor. 

The Retina. — The eye is thus, in principle, a little 
camera, the retina corresponding to the sensitive plate. 



THE SENSE OF SIGHT 



67 



The retina is formed by the branching of the optic nerve, 
which enters the eyeball at the rear and spreads its fibers 
radially in a series of nine layers, or films, resembling fine 
lace work. The fibers terminate in a complicated appa- 
ratus, including the so-called rods and cones, which are 
the true end-organs of the sense of sight. Two points, 
or small spots, in the retinal area are of special interest. 

Ciliary Muscle 




Optic Nerve 



Choroid 



Fig. 11. 



Horizontal Section of the Right Eye. 
(From Cotton's Physiotogy.) 



One, where the optic nerve enters the cavity of the eye, 
forming the stem of the retina, is called the bliJid spot, 
being devoid of sensitiveness to light. The other is the 
point of greatest sensitiveness, and is called the fovea, or 
yellow spot. This is not far from the center of the retina, 
the sensitiveness of which gradually diminishes towards 
its margin. 



68 



THE THEORY OF TEACHING 



The Stimulation of the Retina. — The rods and cones of 
the retina are stimulated by waves, or vibrations, of a 
medium known as the ether^ which pervades all space. 
These waves are of great velocity, ranging from 456 billions 
to 667 billions per second. They are thought of as enter- 
ing the eye in rays, or lines, of "light." The rays in 
passing through the crystalline lens are refracted, or bent 
from their original direction, so as to converge and focus 
upon some part of the retina, forming what is known as 

Inner or Vitreous Surface 

" Internal Limiting Layer 
Layer of Nerve Fibers 
Layer of Nerve Ceils 



Inner Molecular Layer 



— Inner Nuclear Layer 
Outer Molecular Layer 

Outer Nuclear Layer 

External Linniting Layer 

Layer of Rods and Cones 

Layer of Pigment Cell* 
Outer or Choroid Surface 

Fig. 12. Diagrammatic Section of the Human Retina. (Waller.) 
{From Coltons Physiology.) 

the retinal linage, an illuminated area corresponding in 
form and color to the body or surface from which the rays 
proceed. Obedient to optic laws, the rays cross in passing 
through the pupil, and the image is consequently reversed, 
or inverted. Of course, an image is formed on each 
retina. 




THE SENSE OF SIGHT 



69 



Accommodatio7i. — In order that the light-rays may be 
properly focused upon the surface of the retina, so as to 
form the correct image, means are provided for changing 
the convexity of the crystalline lens to suit the varying 
distances of objects from the eye. This adjustment of 
the lens to the distance of objects is known as Accommo- 
dation, the accommodation of the eye to its circumstances. 
This change, according to the accepted theory, is accom- 
plished by the contraction of the ciliary muscle, which 
eases the suspensory ligament and allows the lens, by its 
own elasticity, to assume a more convex form, which is 




Fig. 13. Diageam Representing by Dotted Lines the Alteration in 
THE Shape of the Lens in Accommodation for Near Objects. 



needful in the vision of near-by objects. With advancing 
age, the lens loses this elasticity and is unable to assume 
the needful convexity. Spectacles then become necessary 
to supplement the refraction of the crystalline lens. The 
eye is naturally set for distant objects, and the apparatus 
of accommodation is most important to those whose 
vision is largely employed on objects small and close at 
hand. 



70 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

The Muscles of the Eyeiall. — The rotary movements of 
the eyeball are also important conditions of vision. In 
order that the rays of light from any seen object may be 
converged upon the more sensitive part of the retina, 
about the fovea, it is necessary that the axis of the eyeball 
be able to change its direction freely. These needful 
changes are controlled by six muscles known as the recti 
and ohliqui. Two of the recti effect upward and down- 
ward movements; two others, movements to right and 
left, producing the convergence necessary in vision of 
near objects; while the two oblique muscles, runniug 
through loops which act as pulleys, are able to pull the 
eyes in directions between those produced by the recti. 

Sensations of Sight. — The sensations of retinal origin 
are those of light and shacle^ or light in various degrees of 
intensity, and colors, the constituent elements of common 
sunlight. The different colors are due to different rates 
of vibration in the medium (ether), violet rays resulting 
from the highest rate of vibration and red from the lowest 
rate. While we number the prismatic, or rainbow colors 
as six or seven, there are but three primary colors, viz., 
red, green, and violet. All others, with the vast number 
of shades, tints, and hues, result from combinations of 
these, by superposition, in various proportions. White, 
as is well understood, results from the due combination 
of all the primary colors. Whether black is to be consid- 
ered a distinct color or the absence of all color seems to 
be a matter of controversy. The "shine" or sheeny effect 
called Ulster is sometimes named as a distinct visual 
sensation. 

Muscular Sensations of the Eye. — Visual perception or 
the identification of external objects by sight is not, how- 
ever, accomplished by the unaided sensations of retinal 
origin. Much depends, also, on the interpretation of the 



THE SENSE OF SIGHT 71 

muscular sensations arising from the various eye-move- 
ments. The sensations resulting from the rotary move- 
ments, and still more those connected with the strains of 
convergence and accommodation, are of very great impor- 
tance in what we call seeing things. The partnership, in 
fact, of muscular and retinal sensation in the act of vision 
is one of the many marvels of the nervous system in its 
service of the knowing mind. 

Ideas Derived from Sight. — We are now prepared, in a 
measure, to consider the fundamental ideas which arise 
from visual sensation. (1) First in order, we may name 
those of extensio7i and superficial form. These become 
possible, as in the case of touch, through "plurality of 
points" of contact. The number and relative position of 
the stimulated rods and cones, determining the extent 
and form of the retinal image, furnish the data for such 
perception. 

(2) Ideas of motion may also arise out of retinal experi- 
ence. AVhen, for instance, a point of light crosses the 
field of vision, its rays first impinge upon one margin of 
the retina. As the point moves, a row of retinal elements 
are successively stimulated. Thus the pencil of light 
draws a line, or sort of scratch, across the retina in the 
opposite direction from that of the moving body; this is 
on the supposition that the eye remains fixed, which in 
practice will seldom if ever happen. For we instinctively 
turn the eye as soon as the margin of the retina is even 
slightly affected, so as to bring the rays upon the fovea. 
Thus the wave of stimulation will, as a rule, move from 
the circumference to the center of the retina. Any 
change in position of the center of stimulation signifies a 
corresponding, though opposite, change of position in the 
exciting object. 

(3) Ideas of direction seem to originate in connection 



72 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

with the combination of retinal and muscular sensations 
involved in the act of seeking out, or following, the posi- 
tions of external objects. Thus iqj and doivn are con- 
nected with the elevation or depression of the axis of the 
eye ; right and left are similarly connected with the cor- 
responding eye-movements. 

(4) Ideas of size are related, at first, to the extent of 
the retinal image; but, since this depends upon the 
distance of the visible object, our concrete ideas of size 
are judgments based on the supposed distance of the 
objects. 

Ideas of Distance. — Our ideas of distance may, in like 
manner, in the case of known objects, be based on size. 
But the visual signs of distance are various and need 
special consideration. They are as follows : (a) The size 
of the retinal image, already considered above, (b) The 
degree of illumination of the image, the apparent bright- 
ness or darkness of the object, (c) Clearness or dimness 
of outline, a very important factor. Of course this is 
greatly modified by atmospheric conditions; hence the 
many amusing mistakes made by strangers in a dry and 
dustless atmosphere, like that in the mountains of Colo- 
rado, (d) The rapidity of apparent movement when either 
the object or the beholder is in motion, as when riding in 
the cars. The remoter objects are seemingly stationary, 
which gives the intervening landscape the appearance of 
rotation, or whirling, (e) The presence of intervening 
objects, which break up the distance into parts and thus 
greatly aid in its accurate estimation, (f) But besides 
these visual criteria, the muscular sensations of con- 
vergence and accommodation greatly assist in a proper 
judgment of distance. To test the energy of these last- 
named sensations, let any one hold a small object, as a 
pencil, at arm's length before his eyes, and fix a clear 



THE SENSE OF SIGHT 



73 



gaze upon it; then quickly bring it within a few inches 
of the nose, keeping his eyes fixed upon it all the time. 



f 1. Size of retinal image. 
2. Degree of illumination, light and 
shade. 
! 3. Dimness or clearness of outline. 

4. Motion across retinal field. 

5. Intervening objects. 
MuscuIarP- Strain of convergence. 

I 2. Strain of accommodation. 



Visual Signs 
of Distance. 



Retinal 



Ideas of Solid Form. — Last but not least, we come to 
the service rendered by visual sensation in the genesis of 
our ideas of solidity, or form in three dimensions. 
Unquestionably, this idea is first reached through expe- 
riences of active touch in the grasping or handling of 
objects, the same being also true as to distance, which is, 
in fact, one of the elements of solidity. The eye cannot 
grasp^ and it is only in combination with muscular data 
that visual sensations become signs of solidity. This 
combination is found in our hinocular perspective. The 
fact that the two eyes are separated somewhat, thus occu- 
pying different positions with reference to the seen object, 
causes the two retinal images to differ in a discernible 
degree. This difference we have come to associate, auto- 
matically as it were, with what we have learned through 
our muscles concerning the solidity of objects. It is by 
this principle that the stereoscope, with views taken at 
slightly different angles, produces the illusion of solidity 
in connection with pictures on plane surfaces. Again, if 
a book, for instance, be held with its back towards one's 
face, in front, and looked at with one eye at a time, we 
shall easily observe the difference in the two views. One 
shows us the back and one side of the book; the other 



74 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

eye sees the back and the other side. A look with both 
eyes combines the two ; and thus, in a sense, the Uvo eyes 
can grasp a solid object. 

Another' Retinal Sign of Solidity. — A purely retinal 
sign of solidity is found in the distribution of light and 
shade in the image of an object. This principle is utilized 
in the representation of solid forms by drawing. In rep- 
resenting a sphere, for instance, the concentric arrange- 
ment of the shading and the placing of the point of 
greatest illumination, or least shading, are clear indica- 
tions of not only the solid form of the object but also of 
its position with reference to the eye. In looking at a 
rough surface, as the trunk of an oak tree, the roughness 
is faithfully indicated by the streakings of light and 
shade. And almost any one has had the experience of 
studying a skillfully painted cornice in a hall or large 
room in the often difficult endeavor to determine whether 
it truly or falsely represented relief and depression. ]\Iany 
optical illusions depend for their success upon our instinc- 
tive inference of solidity from light and shade. 

It is evident that all these retinal signs of space-rela- 
tion, distance, direction, etc., are dependent for their 
significance not only upon their connection with muscular 
sensations from the eye-muscles, but also on their associ- 
ation with the results of muscular activity and muscular 
sensation in the early months and years of childhood. 
Active touch has been not inaptly called the schoolmaster 
of the sense of sight. But in due time the pupil outstrips 
the teacher and becomes apparently, though not really, 
an independent agent. The data of pure sight would 
have little intellectual value if they were not thus indisso- 
lubly associated with motor sensations and experiences. 

Inversion of the Retinal Image. — Before leaving the 
subject, brief consideration may be given to the question 



THE SENSE OF SIGHT 



75 



which has troubled many as to the inversion and duplica- 
tion of the retinal image. Why do we not see things 
double? It seems almost certain that infants do not at 
first have that single vision which in adults is the normal 
condition. In early infancy, the two eyes are not coordi- 
nated in their action, but move independently; so that 
the babe must have not two homogeneous images, but 
often entirely dissimilar ones. What the visual con- 
sciousness resulting from such a condition may be, we 
can hardly imagine. But, somehow, the movements of 
the eyes come, in time, to be coordinated; how perfectly 
may be seen by the following experiment. Close one eye 
and place the finger lightly upon the closed lid; then with 
the other eye look back and forth, alternately, at two 
objects some yards apart. The closed eye will be felt by 
the imposed finger to move in perfect unison with the 
other, and no effort of will can interrupt the simultaneous 
action. It results from this perfect coordination, that 
rays of light from any object will strike geometrically 
similar points, or parts, of the two retinae, and thus pro- 
duce identical impressions. 




OBJECT 



EYE 



Fig. 14. Diagram Illustrating the Inversion of the Retinal Image. 
iFrom Blaisdell's Physiology.) 

Why do we not see things upside down? It has been 
answered that infants do see in that manner at first, but 
that by means of active touch — touch and the muscular 
sense — they learn, in time, the true relations of things to 



76 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

their own bodies, and form the habit of mentally re-in- 
verting their images, this habit becoming, in process of 
time, wholly automatic and unconscious. Some experi- 
ments which have been made on an adult subject seem to 
confirm this view. 

But it is to be remembered that the retinal image, as 
such, never goes any farther than the retina. It does not 
slide along the nerve to the brain, like a photograph down 
a tube. The brain event is of an entirely different nature 
from the retinal image. And even that is still a physical 
event, and the connection between it and the mental 
image remains inconceivable. The inversion of the retinal 
image would seem, therefore, to be a matter of practical 
indifference. 

After-Images. — An interesting phenomenon in connec- 
tion with the sense of sight is found in the duration of 
luminous sensations, this being greater than the duration 
of stimulus. Look for a moment, fixedly, at an incan- 
descent electric light; then turn the eye away into space. 
A so-called After-image of the luminous loop will appear 
before the eye, nor will it be removed by closing the 
eyelids. This, in time, will grow less bright, changing 
to a reddish color, and finally to a greenish or black out- 
line, the whole effect persisting for possibly one or more 
minutes. This is due to what may be called the inertia 
of the retinal elements. A similar effect produced by the 
rapid rotation of a live coal or a burning stick, causing an 
apparent circle of fire, is familiar to all children. For 
the same reason, shooting stars seem to have tails. The 
composition of colors on the color-wheel by rapidly 
rotating sectors of different colors belongs in the same 
class of phenomena. 

Thus far, we have been speaking of what are called 
positive after-images. There is another phenomenon 



THE SENSE OF SIGHT 77 

known as the Negative After-Image, of a different and 
more complex origin. Almost any one has had the expe- 
rience of looking absent-mindedly at a picture on the wall 
and then, upon moving the head, of seeing upon the white 
surface of the wall a copy of the picture, but with light 
and shade reversed, the dark parts of the picture appear- 
ing light and the light parts dark, in the after-image. 
Similar results follow the fixed gazing at colors. Upon 
turning the gaze to the white wall, one has an after-image 
of the complementary color. What was a red spot will 
now seem to be green. These peculiar effects are sup- 
posed to be due to fatigue of the retina; but for fuller 
explanation the reader must be referred to more elaborate 
works upon the general subject. 

Summary. — The eye is a piece of physical apparatus resembling 
the camera in principle. Its most important part, the retina, is 
formed by the branching of the optic nerve. 

The rods and cones of the retina are stimulated by waves of ether 
having great velocity. 

The proper focusing of the light-rays to form the retinal image 
is due to (1) the crystalline lens, and (2) a process of adjustment 
known as accommodation. 

Muscles of the eyeball play an important part in vision, both in 
changing its direction and by furnishing muscular sensations 
which cooperate with those of retinal origin. 

The purely retinal sensations are those of hght and shade, color, 
and luster. 

The ideas derived from sight are those of extension, motion, 
direction, distance, and both superficial and solid form. 

The visual signs of distance and solid form are numerous, includ- 
ing muscular strains and various retinal data. 

The inversion of the retinal image has occasioned much per- 
plexity, but it must be remembered that the actual brain event 
is something differing widely from any illumination of the 
retina. 

After-images are an interesting phenomenon, the so-called 
positive images being due to nervous inertia, while the negative 
ones are thought to be due to retinal fatigue. 



78 



THE THEORY OF TEACHING 






o 

H 
'/2 



f Hunger, thirst, nausea, repletion. 

i Suffocation — fatigue. 

t Pains of disease, injuries, etc. 

The Ther-) 

>Heat, cold. 



The Organ- 
ic Sense 



3, Taste 



g 

'6 

b£ CO 



mal Sense ) 

rTrue tastes, or flavors — sweet, sour, 
salt, bitter. 
Mechanical effects — puckery, burn- 
ing, etc. 
r Odors, various and unnamed. 

4. Smell -{ Mechanical effects — from pungent va- 

[ pors and powders. 

_, ,, f Sensations — movement, resistance. 

1. TheMuscu- I , ,. , . 

< Ideas — distance, form, weight, hard- 
lar Sense i 

1^ ness, rigidity, etc. 

r Sensations — contact, pressure. 

] Ideas — extension, rougliness, smooth- 

[ ness. 

{Sensations — noise, tone, pitch, etc. 
Ideas — direction, distance, time. 
f Sensations — light and shade, colors. 



2 Touch 



3 Clearing. 



4. Sight. 



luster. 



j Ideas— extension, motion, direction, 
(^ form, distance, solidity. 



CHAPTER XIV 

SENSE DEFECTS 

Let the reader now attempt to state the results which 
would attend the elimination of any of the eight senses 
that we have named. Taking first the large group of 
sensations which we have included under the organic 
sense, would it not be a great relief to be released from 
all danger of hunger? How we could economize on our 
board bills! Xo thirst, no drunkenness perhaps; and 
then the happy immunity from toothache and all the 
other aches and pains that bring revenue to dentists 
and doctors! The reply to these suggestions will quickly 
present itself. Let the other "body-serving senses" be 
considered in like manner. 

Coming to the knowledge-giving senses, what would be 
the effect of the complete elimination of the muscular 
sense? It would not deprive us of the power of motion; 
our motor nerves and the contractility of the muscles 
would still remain, only the sensory nerves from the 
muscles being nullified. But all voluntary regulation of 
the motor discharge would be rendered impossible, since 
there would be no means except eyesight for measuring 
its momentary effects; and tlie proverbial "hen with her 
head cut off" would fairly illustrate the character of 
our movements. A case has been reported of a mother 
afflicted with paralysis of the muscular sense, who could 
not hold her baby in her arms except by keeping her eye 
on it to prevent an unconscious relaxation of the muscles. 

79 



80 THE THEORY OP TEACHING 

It is difficult to imagine the effect on our conscious life 
of a complete absence of the sense of touch, in its proper 
sense. Kissing and all other caressing would quickly go 
out of fashion, for one item. But a world without con- 
tact the mind is unable adequately to conceive. Our feel- 
ing of reality in the things about us would, seemingly, be 
immensely weakened if not abolished, and we should move 
as in a world of ghosts. ' 

As a matter of fact, however, it is only the more 
highly specialized senses which are ever found defective, 
unless as a pathological condition. But the organs of 
sight and hearing, the senses the most important for the 
service of the mind, are not infrequently partially or 
wholly incapable, through defects of structure or as a 
result of disease, of performing their normal functions. 

The Limitations of the Blind. — We may first consider 
briefly those total defects known as deafness and blind- 
ness, or, rather, the mental condition of those defectives 
known as the blind and the deaf and dumb. Let us 
approach the subject from the standpoint of the ques- 
tion, "Would you rather have been born blind or deal?" 
What are the limitations of the congenitally blind? 
(a) They are, in the first place, cut off from all the pleas- 
ures of color. The entrancing beauty of sky and land- 
scape, of floral tints and forms, and the light of human 
smiles are forever a sealed book. *' Truly the light is 
sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold 
the light of the sun," but not for the blind, who have no 
eyes, (b) All the intellectual discriminations based on 
differences of color and of light and shade, which form so 
important a part of space and form perception, are also 
denied, (c) The ability to read and get knowledge from 
books is fatally curtailed, since books for the blind are so 
few, so bulky, and so prohibitively expensive, (d) The 



SEK8E DEFECTS 81 

blind are so restricted in their power of moving about in 
unfamiliar places that they are far more dependent than 
deaf-mutes in the matter of gaining a livelihood. 

The Limitations of the Deaf. — On the other hand, the 
limitations of the deaf are these: (a) They are cut off, 
firstly, from all the pleasures of music, of poetry and 
oratory, as such, and even from the sound of the human 
voice. They live in a world of silence, as the blind do in 
a world of darkness ; and yet these have neither darkness 
nor silence as normally constituted persons are conscious 
of darkness and silence, (b) While their vocal organs may 
be perfect, their inability to hear the articulate sounds of 
others cuts them off from the possibility of normal speech 
and communication through oral language. But the 
most serious aspect, or result, of this is found m their 
inability to listen to the conversation of others. They are 
thus cut off from asking questions^ lacking the power and 
also the stimulus which come to other children from 
hearing remarks which they do not understand. All 
that early education which the hearing child gets from 
the table-talk of the family and the mere ability to over- 
hear and to ask questions is no part of the deaf-mute's 
heritage. This results in greatly retarding, if not entirely 
thwarting, his development in moral and religious direc- 
tions. In all that makes for the awakening and enlighten- 
ing of the higher nature, the blind child, in earliest years, 
has greatly the advantage of the deaf. 

PARTIAL SENSE DEFECTS 

Partial Defects of Vision. — Still more interesting and 
practically important to the teacher of children are those 
partial sense defects which do not amount to blindness or 
deafness in the ordinary sense of those terms. One of the 
commonest of these is myopia^ or near-sightedness, which 



82 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

results from too great convexity of the lens, or malforma- 
tion of the eyeball so that the rays of light are focused 
before reaching the retina. Other defects resulting from 
malformation of the eyeball are liypermetrojna^ or far- 
sightedness, where the lens is too flat, or the eyeball too 
short, so that the rays would focus behind the retina; 
and astigmatism^ in which case the front of the eyeball 
slightly approaches the cylindrical instead of the spherical 
form. 

All these structural defects can be measurably over- 
come by the use of proper lenses, or "glasses." Success 
in the use of books and in the general work of the school 
is often greatly impeded by lack of such instrumentary 
correction, and the failure is attributed to stupidity which 
is due only to physical misfortune. It is of the utmost 
importance, therefore, that teachers be vigilant in detect- 
ing and reporting such defects at the earliest moment. 

Color- Blindness. — An optical defect of different nature 
is that of color-blindness, due not to malformation of the 
eyeball but to some deficiency in the retinal elements, the 
rods and cones. The "typically," or completely color- 
blind person sees the world in monochrome, in gray, so to 
speak. A summer landscape produces on him the effect 
of a photograph or steel engraving rather than that of a 
water-color or oil painting. But very few persons are in 
this condition. Most color-blind people are defective 
with reference to oidy one of the three primary colors; 
they are red-Uind^ green-blind, or violet-Mind. Red-blind- 
ness is the most common. 

A plausible explanation — the Young-IIelmholz theory — 
as to the cause of this defect holds that there are tliree 
kinds of retinal elements, each of which responds only to 
the rate of ether- vibration which belongs to one of the 
primary colors. If those nerve ends which respond to 



SENSE DEFECTS 83 

the rate for red are abortive or do not function properly, 
the person is red-blmd, and so on. Other hypotheses 
have been proposed. 

Railroad companies have found it necessary to carefully 
examine their employees for the detection of this defect, 
as the inability to distinguish a red light, the danger 
signal, may often have serious consequences. Much, 
however, of what passes for color blindness is simply 
color ignorance, often only an ignorance of color names. 
In such cases, of course, the limitation can be forestalled, 
or even removed, by proper training in the discrimination 
of colors. The failure to give this in many schools is a 
culpable neglect. 

Partial Defects of Hearing. — Partial deafness, some- 
times due to removable causes, is also not uncommon. 
And, as in the case of defects of vision, the child is often 
at a hopeless disadvantage in his work through unsus- 
pected dullness of the sense organ. The simple giving of 
such a child a front seat in the recitation room may often 
relieve him from the handicap. But all such defects 
should be promptly reported to parents, with clear intima- 
tion of the daily consequences. 

Perhaps the most common of all sense defects is that 
form of aural dullness which consists in the inability to 
discriminate pitches, and the consequent inability to sing 
the scale accurately. We call such persons "unmusical"; 
and many seem almost to pride themselves on this condi- 
tion, not appreciating the fact that it is really a jDhysical 
deformity. The term tone-deafness, as analogous to the 
term color-blindness, might be appropriately applied to 
this form of defect. In most cases, it can be overcome or 
forestalled by proper training of the ear in early years. 

Perhaps it might be said that many people are tone- 
stupid instead of tone-deaf. Their unmusical condition 



84 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

is the result of neglect rather than of structural deformity. 
Where real tone-deafness exists, it interferes with adequate 
expression in reading and elocution as well as the ability 
to sing. It will easily be seen that there are strong reasons 
for insisting upon musical instruction in the elementary 
schools. 

The Blind-Deaf. — Much interest has been felt by all 
students of mind in the remarkable cases of Laura 
Bridgman and Helen Keller, who suffered in very early 
years a total loss of both sight and hearing. Laura 
Bridgman lost also the senses of taste and smell. Yet, 
through the infinite patience and skill of their special 
instructors, both became, in a sense, educated persons. 
Much has been written about Helen Keller which is 
probably soQiewhat apocryphal; but enough of unques- 
tioned fact remains to make her case one of great interest 
and importance to educators. But these two women are 
both phenomenal; they stand out in strong contrast with 
the great body of defectives, and constitute a notable 
problem for the psychologist. 

We should always remember, what we are in great 
danger of not realizing, that no person deficient in any 
one of the senses can possibly have the same sort of mind 
as if in possession of all the senses. In the congenital 
deaf-mute, for instance, a whole segment of mind is hope- 
lessly and irrevocably wanting. In the congeni tally blind 
person, another segment is wanting. Helen Keller is 
neither "eye-minded" nor "ear-minded," but touch- 
minded and motor-minded. Laura Bridgman wrote a few 
specimens of what she thought to be poetry. The result 
would be laughable if it were not pitiful. The meta- 
phors, which are the essence of poetry, based on percep- 
tions of color and sound, to say nothing of the metrical 
element, must be absolutely beyond the apprehension or 



SENSE DEFECTS 85 

the imagination of such a person. Yet it is very hard for 
the normally constituted individual to realize the full and 
necessary force of such limitations. 

Summary. — Perfection of function in all the senses is essential 
to normal mentality. All defects in sense organs affect in various 
ways and degrees the character and range of the sensations and 
consequently of the ideas derived from them. This effect is 
greatest in the case of the knowledge-giving senses, and especially 
of sight and hearing. 

The congenitally deaf suffer loss of the pleasures of music, 
of the ability to speak, and, worst of all, of the ability to overhear 
conversation and to ask questions. 

The congenitally blind suffer loss of the pleasures of color and 
light, of the ability to read to any extent, and of physical independ- 
ence. 

Partial defects of vision are those known as myopia, hyperme- 
tropia, and astigmatism, and the retinal disability called color- 
blindness. 

A partial defect of hearing, the inability to distinguish pitches, 
corresponds to color-blindness in vision. 

Persons lacking both sight and hearing, as Laura Bridgman and 
Helen Keller, furnish an interesting study in psychology; but it 
should be remembered that no person afflicted with any serious 
defect of the special sense organs can possibly have a complete 
mind or life experience. 



CHAPTER XV 

PERCEPTION 

Sensation and Percept mi. — In common thought, no 
clear distinction is recognized between sensation and per- 
ception. In the preceding chapter on Sensation, much 
has been anticipated which belongs properly to Percep- 
tion. We are now prepared to take up this activity more 
explicitly, and discover in what respect it is a distinct 
operation of mind. 

Sensation is, as we have seen, a state of feeling, the 
result of impressions from without. It is, in a sense, 
passive; the mind is acted upon from without and 
responds in the simplest possible way. But the response 
does not stop with mere sensibility. The mind instinc- 
tively goes back of the sensations aroused and asks to 
what they are due, attributes them to a cause outside the 
mind itself. Sensation is a state of feeling; perception is 
an act of hnoiving. We have called sensation the first 
mental result of the stimulation of an incarrying nerve; 
we might, in like manner, call perception the second 
mental result of the stimulation of an incarrying nerve. 
Sensation, like other feeling, is subjective; what we feel 
is onrselves, our own states. Perception is objective; 
what we perceive is something external to our mind. 

The Process of Perception. — But this process of refer- 
ring sensation to its cause is by no means so simple as is 
ordinarily supposed. It usually involves the following 
steps, or phases: 

86 



PEECEPTIOI^" 87 

(1) Discrimination, the consciousness of change and 
difference. The present sensation is a newly risen element 
in consciousness. 

(2) Assimilatiun, the recognition of this new sensation 
as similar to some former sensation, its identification with 
former experience. 

(3) Localization, which includes two facts, (a) the 
determination of the particular part or organ of the body 
whose excitation is responsible for the given sensation, 
and (b) the instinctive projection into space, by what has 
been termed the "eccentricity of sensation," of the excit- 
ing cause, or object. We have already made reference to 
the first of these acts in connection with the sense of 
touch. 

(4) Rejjresentation. There arises in consciousness a 
reproduction, or imaging, of past experiences, known as 
the representative element in perception. How important 
a part this plays will presently be seen. 

(5) Inference, or the final reference of the sensation to 
its external cause. 

It is not meant that these steps in the process of per- 
ception follow one another in distinct succession; it would 
be as accurate, perhaps, to say that they occur simultane- 
ously. Neither statement would be strictly true ; but the 
analysis shows perception to be a complex process, and far 
from the simple act which it is popularly thought to be. 

The Perceptive Act Illustrated. — Some illustration may 
be necessary to make clear the preceding statements. 
Suppose one lying in bed, in the darkness of the night, 
to have certain sensations of sound, noises. There will 
follow, first, the discrimination of this condition of con- 
sciousness from the previous silence and from other 
concurrent sensations, as those of warmth or contact. 
The new sensations are assimilated, or classified as noises. 



88 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

Tliey are localized not only as originating in the ear, but 
are mentally projected into space as coming from the 
street without. A representation, or image, arises in mind 
of objects or causes associated with similar sensations in 
former experience, as a baby carriage trundled on the 
sidewalk, or a loaded dray. Finally, we settle upon a 
satisfactory association and refer our sensation to its 
accepted cause. This process may not be slow or labored; 
it may all come in a flash as the listener says, "I wonder 
who is trundling a go-cart at this time of night." 

Again, one experiences a feeling of pain which he dis- 
tinguishes from other coexistent sensations and classifies 
as a pricking or stinging sensation. By its "local sign," 
he locates the stimulation as on the back of his neck. 
Images arise in mind of the possible cause. Now is the 
time for caution. His treatment of that cause will wisely 
vary with the inference he draws. If he iufers a mosquito 
or fly, his action will difl'er from the safe one if he infers 
a wasp. 

It will be recognized that the closing step in perception 
is an implicit judgment based on the comparison of expe- 
riences past and present. 

We may now define perception as the interior etatioyi of 
sensation, or the reference of sensation to its outward 
cause. We may say that 

Perception=Sensation-j- 

Discrimination ^ 

Assimilation | 

Localization \ ^Interpretation . 

Representation | 

Inference j 

Perception Further Characterized.— T\\q term perception 
is properly applied to the process, while the product is 
called a percept. A percept is that idea which we have 
of an external object while it is acting upon our senses. 



PERCEPTION 89 

It should be noted that a percept is seldom related to 
only a single sensation. It usually combines a group of 
associated sensations, as in our percept of an apple. We 
have visual sensations of light and shade and color; 
active touch gives impressions of hardness, smoothness, 
and solidity; the sense of smell makes its contribution; 
while images arise of its taste and internal structure. All 
these the perceiving mind fuses into one experience, the 
percept of an apple. But a drayman handling a barrel of 
apples might, from simply the sensations of smell and 
muscular resistance, infer the presence of apples. This 
also is an act of perception, though the representative 
element is larger than in the former case. 

It has been said that sensations bear something of the 
same relation to percepts that letters do to words. We 
spell percepts out of sensations; but sometimes we need 
only to see a few of the letters in order to spell the whole 
word. 

The beginner in this subject must guard against con- 
fusing the percept and the perceived object. Percepts, 
like sensations, are purely mental entities, existing only in 
the mind. The perceived object, as a physical entity, 
must exhibit certain attributes or conditions : (a) It must 
be capable of exciting the end-organs of one or more of 
our several senses, (b) It must be present, here and 
now. (c) The mind must assign it definite position in 
space. 

Do We Ever Have Pure Sensations? — The question natu- 
rally arises, Do we ever, in adult life, have pure sensa- 
tions, on which the mind does not react by way of 
interpretation? It seems clear that in earliest infancy all 
sensations are thus pure, or mere sensations. The babe 
has, at first, no power or means of interpretation; he does 
not know what his sensations mean. The power of per- 



90 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

ception develops slowly and gradually. But, once devel- 
oped, the habit of referring all sensations to physical 
causes becomes so strong that some reference is unavoid- 
able under ordinary conditions. The reference may be 
mistaken, but it is no less an act of interpretation. 

The nearest approach which we now have to pure sensa- 
tion, unless we except the organic sensations, may perhaps 
be found in the transition state or mament between sleep- 
ing and waking. Some sound may have barely awakened 
us, and we say, in a half-dazed fashion, What was that? 
But any repetition of the noise will be promptly inter- 
preted. In busy, preoccupied moments we might, per- 
haps, become conscious of a pleasant odor without giving 
it sufficient attention to refer it definitely to a flower or 
other source; but, even thus, there would be at least 
some act of discrimination and assimilation, distinguishing 
the sensation as an odor and as pleasant or unpleasant. 

Illusions. — Since perception is essentially the intel- 
lectual interpretation of sensations, it follows that \ve 
may have false perceptions. A mistaken interpretation, 
or false perception, is called an illusion. The timid foot- 
passenger on a starlit night may find a tramp, or even a 
spook, in what closer observation would resolve into a 
wind-swayed bush or a grazing sheep. Many wonderful 
illusions are artificially produced of a nature to make one 
*'doubt the evidence of his senses." But our senses 
always tell true; it is the intellect which goes astray in 
its interpretation. In cases of illusion, there is always a 
perceived object, something acting on the senses, but it is 
wrongly perceived. This often results from some precon- 
ception possessing the mind at the time, the representative 
element in the perceptive process tlius gaining undue 
prominence. 

Training in Perception. — Training in perception, while 



PERCEPTION 91 

it involves exercise of the sense organs, is not really a 
training of those organs, but a training of the mind. Its 
essential factor is a discipline of the power and habit of 
attention with reference to the several steps of the per- 
ceptive process, and especially the fundamental ones of 
discrimination and assimilation, or, in a single word, 
comparison. Much of the careless, slipshod observation 
in the world has its cause, primarily, in sense defects as 
yet undiscovered. For instance, the near-sighted child 
cannot see things clearly, and so takes little interest in 
seeing. He does not form the Uahit of seeing things, as 
flowers, colors, etc., critically and appreciatively. But, 
on the other hand, lack of the observing habit is often due 
to mere neglect or indifference on the part of all con- 
cerned. 

Much attention should be given by both parents and 
teachers to the cultivation of the power and habit of accu- 
rate observation. The chief instrumentality for accom- 
plishirrg this important result is, after all, only the simple 
device of wisely using the index finger. The child's 
interest only needs direction. The thoughtful guide of 
childhood will be constantly saying, "See there! See how 
bright — or how curious or how rare — that is!" An alert 
habit of mind, and watchfulness for whatever is novel or 
significant or beautifirl, may thus be easily established in 
early years by the simplest means. Of course, the parent 
or teacher needs first to have himself an observant mind 
and a comprehensive interest in the environment. 

More formal exercise of the observing faculty should 
also be provided for in the lower grades of school in the 
way of lessons in color and form, and in the various 
phases of manual training and nature study. Other 
results of value besides the power of observation will thus 
be incidentally secured. 



92 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

Summary. — Sensation is a state of feeling; perception is an act 
of knowing. Sensation is subjective; perception is objective. 

The process of perception is complex and involves the several 
factors of discrimination, assimilation, localization, representation, 
and inference, resulting in interpretation, or the reference of 
sensation to an outward cause. 

The act of perception usually involves the grouping of sensa- 
tions, though some of these may be mentally represented instead 
of being actually felt. 

The term perception is applied to the act, or process; the prod- 
uct, or resulting consciousness, is called a percept. 

A perceived object must be (a) capable of exciting sensory 
nerve ends, (b) present here and now, (c) assigned to a definite 
position in space. 

In adult life we seldom, if ever, have pure, unreferred sensa- 
tions. 

Illusions are mistaken perceptions; the sensations are actual, 
but wTongly interpreted. 

Training in perception is a training of the mind to use the sense 
organs effectively, and the first step towards this is the arousing 
and directing of the child's attention to things about him. 



CHAPTER XVI 



ATTENTION 



The Distribution of Consciousness. — We are now pre- 
pared for a fuller consideration of consciousness, and 
especially that phase of it called Attention. Conscious- 
ness has already been characterized as any form of mental 
activity; it is aiuareness of external phenomena and of 
ourselves, of our own exercise of knowing, feeling, and 
willing. As related to external objects, we are conscious 
of many things at the same time, but in different degree. 
The field of consciousness, at most times, is wide. We 
may borrow a useful illustration from the functioning of 
the retina. As we look out upon an extended scene, a 
thousand individual objects imprint their images upon 
the retinal area, but, owing to the structure of the 
retina, not with equal effect. Images occupying the 
central part of the field of vision gain access to the more 
sensitive part of the retina, and their mental result is 
therefore more intense than in the case of those objects 
which impress only the marginal portions. The field of 
consciousness, like the field of vision, may be considered 
as partly focal and partly marginal, a fact to which Pro- 
fessor Lloyd Morgan has serviceably called attention. To 
put the matter in another way, consciousness is not evenly 
distributed throughout its field; some parts, or objects, 
are in its focus whiJe more are marginal. 

Attention Defined. — Attention is focal, or intensified, 
consciousness, the concentration of consciousness upon 

93 



94 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

some objects in preference to others which remain in 
consciousness but are comparatively neglected. Atten- 
tion is thus selective in its action, and involves a narrow- 
ing of the clear field of consciousness, as looking through 
a microscope narrows the field of vision. Attention is 
not a distinct faculty of the mind; it is not a peculiar 
form or kind of consciousness, but only a high degree of 
consciousness. A lens may focus rays of any color — to 
form a field of high illumination. 

Co7iditions of Attention. — This concentration of con- 
sciousness, or attention, is an indispensable requisite for 
all effective and successful intellectual activity ; it is there- 
fore of the utmost consequence to the educator that he 
understand clearly the conditions on which its presence 
depends. (1) First, we may name the physical condition 
of hrain vigor, a fresh and healthful condition of the 
cerebral hemispheres and the nervous system as a whole. 
Efficient attention is not to be expected when the brain 
and nerves are greatly fatigued or in any diseased or 
abnormal condition. A headache or a state of drowsiness 
is not conducive to mental concentration. An anaemic 
or ill-nourished condition of the bodily organism is 
inimical to prolonged mental concentration. 

(2) A second condition is that of efficient stimulus. 
The mental effect which will be produced by this depends 
on (a) The quantity or force of the stimulus. A bonfire 
or a flash of lightning compels greater attention than the 
flame of a candle, (b) The quality or kind of stimulus. 
A red light may command keener attention than a yellow 
one. The taste of grapes may excite consciousness more 
than their smell. A musical performance may command 
attention either by its excellence or its badness, (c) But 
the greatest effect of stimulus is found in connection with 
change. A stimulus might be of such quality or quantity 



ATTENTION 95 

as not to surmount the threshold of consciousness while it 
remained uniform, yet a slight change in either would 
instantly arrest attention. Thus the faintest shadows or 
changes of illumination in a dark room will receive prompt 
attention and interpretation. The hawk may not find the 
mouse while the mouse sits still, but the slightest move- 
ment brings him down upon the prey, 

(3) Last, but not least, attention depends upon interest. 
"Interest is the mother of attention, attention is the 
mother of knowledge; if you would win the daughter, 
make sure of the mother and grandmother." Yet it is 
also true that attention may become the mother of 
interest. 

Interest. — Fuller consideration must here be given to 
the meaning and office of Interest. What is interest? 
When do we call a book or a performance interesting? 
When it excites our feelings; when it makes us laugh or 
cry or excites our indignation or sympathy. Interest is 
any hind of feeling that arouses the act of attention. 
The most important kind of interest is that which arises 
in connection with knowledge and the quest for truth. 
One form of this we call curiosity. By this term we may 
designate the desire of the child, or the gossip, to know 
more about small things, or the eager thirst of the scien- 
tific investigator to know the whole truth about large 
things. The causes which excite interest are of impor- 
tance to the teacher. They seem to be found in the proper 
relating of the two principles of 7iovelty and familiarity^ 
as these respectively call forth the acts of discrimination 
and assimilation. We are always glad to go away from 
home and encounter the novel; we are equally glad to 
return to the familiar environment of home. We are 
interested in the crowd of strangers at the World's Fair, 
but intensely interested in the fellow townsman or neigh- 



96 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

bor whom we may discover in the motley crowd. We are 
interested in new books, but we love the old stand-bys. 
The novel must not be too novel; an object about which 
we could predicate absolutely nothing would not command 
any interest or attention. An object about which we had 
nothing more to learn would be equally uninteresting. 
"Similarity amid diversity" is everywhere the condition 
which stimulates the mind to its most profitable and 
effective exercise. 

Kinds of Attention. — Two varieties or forms of atten- 
tion are distinguished, Non-voluntary or j^utomatic, and 
Voluntary. Automatic, or Keflex, Attention is that due 
to the attractive force of the object or stimulus. While 
it involves the expenditure of nervous energy, and so 
may be physically exhausting, it does not involve the 
effort of will. The attention which one gives to a con- 
flagration is an extreme example; also the consciousness 
of one hearing the roar of an oncoming tornado. Like 
Coleridge's wedding guest, "He cannot choose but hear." 

The attention of children is chiefly of this non-voluntary 
sort. Moreover, it is very fleeting, changing momentarily 
with the changing stimulus. The young child is the 
victim of his sensory environment, a prey to stimuli, at 
the mercy of present, immediate interests. 

Voluntary Atte?ition. — Voluntary Attention is distin- 
guished as that which is under the direction of the will. 
The mind is thought of as actively taking the matter into 
its own hands and setting aside or vetoing the present 
stimuli which clamor for recognition. This is done under 
the pressure of a far-reaching purpose, a future result 
held firmly in view. It might thus be said that voluntary 
attention, no less than non-voluntary, is determined by 
interest, the fundamental difference being, after all, only 
that between immediate and remote interests. 



ATTENTION 97 

Voluntary attention is characteristic of the trained 
adult mind; it is not, however, a persistent state. The 
will can bring the mind and object together, but if some 
present interest does not supervene, if voluntary attention 
does not soon merge into non-voluntary, it will loose its 
grip and a new direction be given to it. The student 
grappling with a new and difficult lesson furnishes a per- 
tinent illustration. If an interest does not speedily 
develop in some part or phase of the lesson, catching and 
holding his attention, his mind will relax and wander. 
He must then pull himself up and introduce his mind 
anew to the lesson. If he does not at length succeed in 
"getting interested" in the topic itself, he will abandon 
the effort in despair or disgust. A different example may 
be seen in our experience with a new book, even a novel. 
The first chapters go hard; automatic attention does not 
develop rapidly enough, and it is only by repeated acts of 
will that we hold on till the plot and dialogue have gen- 
erated a body of feeling or present interest, which fur- 
nishes sufficient motive to send us forward. But this 
body of feeling may finally become so great that we find 
it as difficult to break off as we did to begin. The great 
office of will, therefore, in connection with attention is 
that of initiative, of bringing mind and object into such 
contact that the uninteresting shall become the inter- 
esting. And the will must have the backing of a clearly 
defined and highly esteemed end, or purpose. 

Choice of Interests. — But the will also acts in another 
way, by a balancing of conflicting interests and the inhibi- 
tion, or setting aside, of some that others may have posses- 
sion of the field. Thus the will may be said to determine 
what interest or kind of interests shall prevail at a given 
time. The act of inhibition — literally, holding in — tho 
checking of an impulse, consists often, if not always, in 



98. THE THEORY OF. TEACHING 

the displacement of one action by another. Thus a boy 
frightened by the sudden appearance of a dog may inhibit 
or check his impulse to run away by moving towards the 
dogo An impulse to contract one set of muscles is over- 
come by innervating the antagonist muscles. The same 
principle applies to the relation of ideas in consciousness. 
I turn away from or banish unwelcome ideas by summon- 
ing others to occupy or divert my attention, much as a 
nurse quiets a hurt child by getting him to look out of 
the window. The nurse controls the emotional state of 
the child simply by playing one stimulus against another; 
none the less, she controls it. And so the student checks 
his mind-wanderings* by perseveringly pulling himself up 
and setting before his mind anew the remoter interest or 
end for which the study was undertaken. 

Summary. — We are conscious of many things at the same 
instant, but not to an equal degree. The focusing or concentration 
of consciousness, called attention, may be compared to the focusing 
of light on the retina, and consciousness may be discriminated 
as focal and marghial. Attention is focal consciousness. 



Attention depends on 



f Brain-vigor. 

{Quantity. 
Quality. 
Change of. 

Interest, which depends on | Familiarity. 



Interest is any kind of feeling which excites the effort of atten- 
tion. Curiosity is one form of interest. 

Attention is of two kinds, or types, voluntary and involuntary. 
Involuntary attention is that due to the attractiveness of a present 
object. Voluntary attention is that due to an act of the will 
aroused by some remoter interest, or object of desire. 

The function of the will in attention consists in introducing 
the mind to the object and in bringing it back to the object when 
it has relaxed or wandered. It also operates through the choice 
of the interest which shall be allowed to act, and in the checking 
or inhibition of competing interests. 



CHAPTER XVII 

MEMORY 

Represe7itation. — The effect of a perceived object upon 
the brain and mind does not wholly cease with the act of 
perception. We have seen in our analysis of the percep- 
tive process that it contains a factor which we called 
Representation, the revival, in some way, of past sensa- 
tions or experiences with which the present ones are iden- 
tified or assimilated. Here, then, with the very beginning 
of perception, we have also the beginning of Memory. We 
must now mark the distinction between percepts and 
images. A percept is the idea, or notion, which we have 
of an external object while it is acting upon our senses. 
An image is a similar idea which we have of an individual 
object or event which is not present to any of the senses. 
At night and out of doors, one may have a percept of the 
moon; at anytime, one may close his eyes and call to 
mind an image of the moon in any one of its particular 
phases. One may have, at will, a clear image of a 
deceased friend of whom percepts are no longer possible. 
Such an image is a remembered percept, or memory -image. 
It is a more or less perfect copy of a former percept. The 
image, is believed to be occasioned by the activity of the 
same parts of the brain that were concerned in the excit- 
ing of the original percept. The percept is, normally, 
more vivid than the image ; and this vividness probably 
gives that feeling of reality which the mind attaches to a 
perceived object. Our images, however, as in dreams, 

99 



100 THE THEORY OP TEACHING 

have sometimes a degree of vividness which causes them 
to he ilhisory. A lady, known to the author, dreamed on 
one occasion that she was invited out to tea on the following 
Thursday evening. When the time came, she responded 
to the invitation, and was greatly chagrined, in the course 
of events, to find that she was self-invited. 

Phases of tlie Memory Process. — Memory as a process 
involves three factors or phases, namely, Eetention, 
Eeproduction, and Eecognition. The nature of reten- 
tion has been, in the popular understanding, greatly mis- 
apprehended. The mind has been thought of as a sort of 
storehouse, or case of pigeon-holes, in which images of 
past experiences are stored away, like old negatives in a 
photographer's back-room, to be pulled out again as occa- 
sion requires. This conception is very wide of the fact. 
If the question be asked, "Where are our ideas when they 
are not in consciousness?" the only valid answer must be, 
"iVbzi^Aere. " If I crook my arm and then straighten it 
again, where is the crook then? Gone forever, non- 
existent. 

The mind is not a receptacle; it is an activity. We 
shall never have again the image or percept of the present 
moment; it will be another one, closely similar to the 
present one but not identical with it, for neither the con- 
ditions nor the mind itself will ever be again exactly the 
same as now. The same part of the brain will function 
again in reproducing the image, but it will be a new act 
and produce a new copy of the original percept. That 
these copies vary slightly with each recurrence may be seen 
in the case of experiences often recalled through a series of 
years. Our memories slip. I recall with seeming clearness 
certain experiences as a soldier in the Civil War, and have 
often recalled them, but my old army diary bometimes 
tells a different story from my seemingly clear memories. 



MEMORY 101 

RETENTION" 

Retejition Defined, — Retention may, then, be defined as 
the permanent possiMlity^ due to modificatio7i of brain 
structure, of reviving past mental experiences. Every 
mental act leaves the brain a little different from what it 
was before or would otherwise have been. The gnarled 
oak contains within its tissues a record of all that has 
happened to it through frost or sun or storm; if we had 
the eyes to read this record we could know the whole life- 
history of the tree, in its knots and rings and the twist of 
its fibers. In like manner the brain builds and organizes 
a record of all its activities and vicissitudes. Every new 
experience works a change in structure, and the persist- 
ence of these changes is *' retention," or the physical basis 
of memory. Eetention is, thus, primarily a physical 
result, registered in the brain and nerves. 

Nature of the Brain Changes. — What the exact nature 
of these brain changes may be is mostly a matter of con- 
jecture. Some have imagined it to consist in a change in 
the shape of the brain cells, or new groupings or arrange- 
ments of brain cells, or the forming of new paths in the 
brain, new relations between the neurones, or all these 
things together. The most we are safe in asserting is 
that mental activity leaves traces in the brain, that these 
traces are deepened by each repetition or revival of the 
experience, and that activities which have once occurred 
occur more easily again. The first occurrence establishes 
a tendency to recurrence. 

These "traces" have been compared to grooves, which 
are deepened more and more by continued repetition of 
the experience producing them. Imagine a slope of land, 
well harrowed and smoothed, upon which a heavy rain 
comes doAvn. The water will not pass off in a thin sheet, 
but will gather into rills, and these will follow the lines of 



102 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

least resistance. In the dry time following, the wind and 
other agencies may fill up these rills, or grooves, with dust 
and debris; but when the next rain comes it will not dig 
new courses, but clean out and follow those first traced. 
And each recurring storm will but deepen the original 
channels. So with the nervous pathways of our brains. 

The Conditions of Retention. — The conditions on which 
the depth and permanence of this registering of impres- 
sions in the nervous system depend are partly mental and 
partly physical. They are (1) Attention and (2) Repeti- 
tion. The conditions of attention have already been dis- 
cussed. It will be recalled that the most important of 
these is the form of feeling known as interest, a purely 
psychical antecedent, while an important place is also 
held by brain conditions and the character of the stimu- 
lus, both, primarily, physical conditions. 

Eepetition, while more mechanical than interest and 
attention, nevertheless plays an important part in the 
deepening of impressions and the modification of the 
nervous system. The analogy between the effect of the 
repetition of mental experiences in the deepening of brain 
traces, or paths, and that of the repetition of acts and 
causes in the purely physical world has already been sug- 
gested in our illustration of the falling of water upon a 
slope of ground. Repetition is especially useful, and 
sometimes the sole resort, in cases where interest fails or 
cannot be developed, as in learning the multiplication 
table. It also serves as a valuable reinforcement to the 
work of attention. The whole force and value of habit 
rests largely upon the effects of repetition. 

Reproduction. — Reproduction, the power and the act of 
recalling or reinstating past percepts and images, depends 
of course and primarily upon retention, as already 
defined. Readiness and accuracy of recall are also 



MEMORY 103 

dependent on the recency of the original experience or, 
at least, the recency and frequency of previous reproduc- 
tion. I can recall with clearness and accuracy what I had 
for dinner yesterday, but what I ate a month ago to-day 
has passed beyond recall. There is an apparent exception 
in the case of extreme age. The old man recalls freely 
many of the events of his youth, but cannot remember 
the incidents of a year ago. This memory of early expe- 
riences is due to the impress made upon his brain in the 
plastic period of life; but the brain tissues have now lost 
the impressibility of youthful years; the power which we 
have called retention is atrophied, and reproduction is 
forestalled at its very source. 

ASSOCIATION" 

A third, or we might say the first, condition of repro- 
duction is found in what is called Association of ideas. 
Association is that relationsliip hetioeen ideas by tohich 
they tend to recall one another into consciousness. Our 
consciousness is always complex; that of any moment 
comprises many parts or items, and yet it is, in a sense, 
unitary. Whenever some of the items of a conscious 
state or instant are by any means revived, they tend to 
reinstate the remaining items, or constituents, of that 
conscious state. In brief, experiences occ^irring together 
tend to recur together. This is called the Law of Con- 
tiguity. But no instant of consciousness is distinct or 
cut off from the preceding and succeeding moments. 
Like dissolving views, the successive states blend into 
each other; so that we speak, appropriately, of the Stream 
of Consciousness. Yet the relation of ideas is not that of 
mere fluidity. Ideas are linked together by relations of 
time and space. The law of contiguity includes both 
these relations, and associates not only simultaneous ideas 



104 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

but also those immediately successive. For example, if I 
have sometime fallen out of a boat at a picnic I shall 
hardly be able to recall the splash without images also 
of the surroundings, the witnesses, the preceding and 
succeeding events and demonstrations, the quest for dry 
clothes, etc. If I have once been at the top of the Wash- 
ington monument, I cannot recall the fact without images 
of the Potomac, the Capitol and other contiguous facts 
and events. To recall the old homestead of childhood 
days is to image also its inmates and surroundings. For 
a simple example, how promptly each letter of the alpha- 
bet suggests the next! As the French proverb says, "You 
cannot think a without thinking Z»." The successive 
notes in a tune have the same power to call up each the 
next. 

Law of Cause and Effect. — Another important relation 
which links ideas together is that of cause and effect. 
Consciousness of any fact or event as an effect tends 
forcibly to suggest the cause, and vice versa. The sight 
of a lime-kiln makes us look for the quarry; that of a 
water-mill, for the pond. Any visible action or gesture 
compels some interpretation on our part, some idea of the 
mental state which called it forth. The memory of a 
journey or of an accident will bring again to mind the 
causes which lay back of it. To think of a book is to 
think of its author or publisher. 

Psychologists have been wont to include this association 
under the law of contiguity. But cause and effect are not 
always contiguous in either time or place; and the causal 
relation is so important a one in our mental life that it 
seems useful for the teacher to give it distinct recogni- 
tion, whatever course the philosopher may find most con- 
sonant with his aims. 

Law of Similarity. — A third principle of Association, 



MEMORY 105 

markedly distinct from either of the foregoing, is known 
as the Law of Similarity Ideas and mental situations 
tend to suggest, or recall, like past experiences. This 
likeness consists in the possession of a common element 
or elements. Thus the appearance of a person with a 
peculiai nose or eye may call to mind anotiier person 
with a similar feature, though in other respects the 
persons may be widely different. To think of President 
Garfield is almost inevitably to think also of Lincoln and 
McKinley, because of their two elements of resemblance, 
one official and the other tragic. George Steele's poem, 
"Deirdre," which I recently read, reminded me of Ten- 
nyson's '' Idylls of the King." 

Latu of Contrast. — The Law of Contrast has been 
recognized as a distinct principle; but it is not difficult 
to regard this as only a special form or variety of the law 
of similarity. Contrast is only a low degree of similarity. 
We do not contrast things which are wholly unlike; 
indeed^ contrasted things have more points of likeness 
than of unlikeness. A dwarf may remind us of a giant, 
but both are men. Summer heat may suggest the cold of 
winter, or the cold of ice-water, but both are tempera- 
tures. Ingratitude may suggest gratitude, but both are 
moral qualities. 

The Place of Association hy Contiguity. — Association 
by contiguity is the predominant form Avith children and 
with uneducated persons, people of undeveloped intellects. 
The untrained mind cannot readily analyze a past experi- 
ence and relate only the essential features of it. The 
associations of mere contiguity prevail overpoweringly at 
every step. Literature, which aims to mirror life, affords 
many examples, such as the maundering of Juliet's Nurse 
(Romeo and Juliet, Act I, Scene iii), or Dame Quickly's 
specific assault upon Falstaff ; 



106 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

*'Thoii didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, 
sitting in my Dolphin-chamber, at the round table, by a 
sea-coal fire, upon Wednesday in Wheeson-week, when the 
Prince broke thy head for liking his father to a singing- 
man of Windsor, — thou didst swear to me then, as I was 
washing thy Avound, to marry me, and make me my lady, 
thy wife. Canst thou deny it? Did not goodwife Keech, 
the butcher's wife, come in then, and call me gossip 
Quickly? coming in to borrow a mess of vinegar ; telling 
us she had a good dish of prawns; whereby thoti didst 
desire to eat some; whereby I told thee they were ill for 
a green wound? And didst thou not, when she was gone 
down stairs, desire me to be no more so familiar with 
such poor people; saying that ere long they should call 
me madam? And didst thou not kiss me, and bid me 
fetch thee thirty shillings? I put thee now to thy book- 
oath: deny it, if thou canst." 

Associatio7i in Learning to Read. — Contiguous associa- 
tion enters largely into the routine work of the elementary 
school, as in learning the alphabet, learning to spell, 
learning the multiplication table, etc. In the process of 
learning to read, we have a striking example of the asso- 
ciation of sensations. The child has first, let us say, the 
percept and image of a dog. The word dog comes to him 
first in sensations of sound, an ear-word. In learning to 
speak it, muscular sensations are associated with the aud- 
itory ones, and he has now a mouth-word. When the 
written symbol is presented, visual sensations enter the 
combination, and he has the eye-word. Finally, we have 
another set of muscular sensations aroused in the writing 
of it, giving him a hand-word. Henceforth, all these 
activities are indissolubly associated with the idea, or 
image, dog ; and any one is able to call up all the rest. 
The annexed diagram represents, in a way, the part which 
association plays at each step in the child's conquest of a 
vocabulary. 



MEMORY 107 

^ Image 
Hand-word( 




Ear-word 

Eye- word ' 

Mouth- word 

The Higher Forms of Association. — But while associa- 
tion by contiguity plays so great a part in common life, 
the higher forms of intellectual activity are dependent on 
the associations of similarity and of cause and effect. 
The scientist, on the one hand, and the poet, on the other, 
live, so to speak, in associations of similarity. The 
botanist identifies his flower, the geologist his fossil, 
through the suggestive force of some point of likeness, 
and that, often, not through a laborious process of 
reasoning but by a flash of recognition. Whit tier sings 
of a familiar sight : 

"Still sits the school-house by the road, 
A ragged beggar sunning." 

We are struck at once by the force and fitness of the 
figure; but each and every metaphor springs into sudden 
existence through the suggestions of similarity, more or 
less subtle. 

In all the studies of the school which are not purely 
mechanical, as in history, literature, and the sciences, it 
is the duty of the teacher to see that causal relations and 
those of similarity, or common nature, are brought to the 
fore and duly emphasized. The superficial and mechan- 
ical, often accidental, relations of mere contiguity have 
their part to play, but should be brought into service only 
where the more vital relations are not traceable. 



108 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

Breadth of Associafiofi. — Sinoo one great object of 
study and mental training is the power of ready recall, 
the ability to command a reproduction of what we have 
learned when we need it, the educator must consider 
carefully all the practical phases of association. One of 
these is found in the fact that readiness of recall depends 
on both strength and breadth of associations. Firmness 
of association is furthered by attention and repetition. 
Breadth of association is the result of definite, intelligent 
effort in the discovery and tracing out of relations, 
especially of similarity. The pupil should be trained to 
continually ask himself, in the face of any new item of 
knowledge, "Where have I met anything like this before? 
What facts already known to me have any bearing on this 
fact?" The more widely we associate any truth with 
other truths, or with its related facts, the more numerous 
and effective clues shall we possess for the recovery of 
this truth when wanted, through its convergent associa- 
tions. We need to recognize, however, that associations 
are divergent as well as convergent. It is this fact of 
divergent association which leads to that mind- wandering 
which passes for inattention. The student needs to pro- 
tect himself from this tendency by externally guarding 
against needless distractions and by exercise of will to keep 
his stream of consciousness flowing in the right channels. 

Summary. — A percept is the notion we have of an object while 
it is acting upon our senses; an image is the idea which we have 
of an individual object or event which is not present to the senses. 
The percept is more vivid than the corresponding image. 

Memory involves three factors, retention, reproduction, and 
recognition. 

Retention is the permanent possibility of reviving past mental 
experiences; it is due to modification of brain structure. The 
conditions of retention are attention and repetition. Repetition 
deepens the brain "traces" produced by attention. 



MEMORY 109 

Reproduction is the act of recalling past percepts and images 
into present consciousness. It depends on retention, recency, 
and association. 

Association is that relationship between ideas by which they 
tend to suggest, or recall, one another. 

The most important principles of association are known as the 
laws of contiguity, of cause and effect, of similarity, and of con- 
trast. 

Association by contiguity is the main reliance of children and 
uneducated persons. Scientists and poets make greatest use of 
the law of similarity. 

Breadth of association is essential to ready and effective recall; 
it can be secured only by diligent effort in tracing out relations 
between facts and ideas. 



CHAPTER XVIII 



MEMORY— CONTINUED 



Recognition. — Recognition is an essential element of 
remembering. There may be retention and reproduction 
of past experience, but if it be not recognized as our oivn 
past experience, there is no memory. College seniors and 
more experienced orators, ere now, have had the experi- 
ence of finding a place, in their effort of production, where 
composition became easy and expression ran smoothly 
if not eloquently. Later on, after delivery perhaps, the 
accusation of **cribbing" arose and was substantiated. 
The eloquent passage had been unconsciously reproduced 
from Macaulay, or some other admirable source, without 
recognition. The unlucky wight believed himself to have 
originated, not borrowed, the passage. This act of repro* 
duction without recognition, in such cases, has received 
the name of "unconscious plagiarism." 

The man who "repeats himself" is usually unconscious 
of the fact; he does not remetJiber what he is repeating. 
It is a matter of cerebral habit rather than of memory. 

The essential fact in the recognition of reproduced 
images seems to consist in the assignment to them of a 
definite time and place in one's own former consciousness. 
They must be known, at least, as representing actual 
former experiences of our own. As in perception, the 
mind must assign the perceived object a definite position 
in space, so in memory the revived event must be appre- 
hended as having definite time relations to other conscious 
experience which we are also able to recall. 

110 



MEMORY 111 

Kinds of Memory. — Attempts have been made to 
classify memory, or divide it into different kinds These 
attempts have not been very satisfactory; but it seems 
useful to recognize the differences between the memory of 
youth and that of maturity. In the years from, say, six 
to sixteen, memory is very receptive and tenacious. Mind 
is impressible and alert, the brain is very plastic, and 
even unimportant experiences are remembered without 
much effort of organization. The memory at this stage 
has been cdlledi meclianical^ or verbal^ words being easily 
remembered without much reference to their meaning. 
A declamation, for instance, of several pages of prose may 
be memorized with ease at this time; whereas, later in 
life such an act becomes, to most, an impossibility. This 
*'tar-bucket" memory, which catches and holds all that 
it touches, relies mainly on associations of contiguity and 
relations of sensation. It remembers things by their 
sound or look and by simple succession, as in the learning 
by children of counting-out rhymes and other meaningless 
lingo. 

After the age of about sixteen, this mechanical, verbal 
memory begins to fail, or rather to be superseded by what 
may be called the ratmial, analytic memory. Mere con- 
text becomes increasingly difficult to retain, by reason of 
changing brain conditions. Greater dependence must be 
had on the signification of what is learned ; it must be 
analyzed and organized according to its relations of simi- 
larity and cause and effect. The law of contiguity is no 
longer an efficient servant, and verbal memorizing becomes 
a severe and irksome task. 

Disparagement of Memory. — Much contempt has been 
poured upon the mechanical memory by educators in 
recent years. Indeed, all memorizing has been disparaged 
to such an extent, and all demand for "learning by 



112 THE THEORY OF TEACHIKQ 

heart"' has been abandoned to such a degree, that serious 
results have followed. A generation of pupils has arisen 
that blithely welcomes the new doctrine, and feels 
aggrieved at any requirement of accurate reproduction of 
lessons. This general disparagement of memory, directed 
in the first place against the ancient abuse of mere verbal 
memorizing, has now reached such a pitch in the uncon- 
scious practice of a generation of teachers that the decay 
of memory seems to be already a progressive result. The 
wise teacher will not pour scorn on that form of memory 
which is the distinctive and priceless possession of youth, 
but will strive, rather, to direct it and keep it alive as 
long as possible along with the more rational memory 
which arrives later. The premature abandonment of 
even severe exercise of the verbal memory is a pedagogical 
mistake. And we should take cfjre, before it is too late, 
to store this memory with those useful facts with which 
it alone can cope. Learning to spell, for instance, is 
work for these years; it must be done then or never. So 
with the learning of arithmetical tables and dates in 
history, like 1492 and 1776, and the Latin paradigms. 
Again, youth is the time for storing the mind with a great 
quantity of literary extracts, ''memory gems," as they 
are called in the parlance of teachers. In short, all the 
*' drudge work" of memory should be taken care of before 
it is too late; for at the right time it is 7iot drudgery. 
And even in the adolescent years we should not be 
neglectful of "learning by heart," though we should 
make the proper distinction between that and learning by 
rote. 

Special Memories. — We sometimes speak of special 
memories, as the memory of musical sounds and combina- 
tions, of which "Blind Tom" furnished so striking an 
example; the memory of color and form, enabling an 



MEMORY 113 

artist to paint a portrait from memory; memories of 
dates, of mathematical formulae, etc. But these are due 
to special interests or perhaps to special excellence in cer- 
tain sense-organs, which results in greater depth of 
impression by special classes of phenomena. He who 
has no excellence of perception in a given class of phe- 
nomena will have no strength of memory in that direc- 
tion. 

Rememhrance and Recollection. — Another classification, 
or division, of memory may be made on the basis of its 
relation to volition. Much of our mental recall is invol- 
untary; one image follows another under the laws of 
association, the train of ideas being broken from time to 
time by new percepts which switch off the train upon new 
tracks, so to speak. This automatic recall, of which we 
have a good example in day-dreaming, may appropriately 
be named Eemembrance. Eecollection, on the other 
hand, is the term applied to recall by conscious effort of 
the will. Much of the student's effort in recitation is of 
this sort. A still more familiar example is found in the 
effort to recover a name which has "slipped our mind." 
This voluntary recall, like the automatic, depends on the 
principles of association, and works by seeking clues which 
may suggest the desired appellation. There seems to be 
lurking in consciousness a vague notion of the word, 
a sort of mold which it must fit. Various names come 
up and are tested by this mold and rejected, one 
after another, until one is found which fits and is ac- 
cepted. 

The training of memory consists not in modifying the 
power of "retention," which is undoubtedly a fixed 
quantity by constitutional organization, but in increasing 
the mind's skill (1) in organizing and relating the ideas 
to be reproduced, and (2) in searching for successful clues 



114 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

and thus getting free from the obstructive force of diver- 
gent associations. 

Mnemonics. — At certain periods in the history of edu- 
cation, much attention was given to Mnemonics, or 
artificial systems for aiding the memory. Some of these 
systems were very elaborate, as the famed "memory 
town" of the Romans, described in the Encyclopedia 
Britannica (9th edition). All mnemonic systems are 
based on the laws of association; but, as a rule, they 
employ only superficial and artificial associations. And 
the fact was at length appreciated that it costs more labor 
to learn and operate the systems than to remember with- 
out them. 

Many simple mnemonic devices, however, are in common 
use, such as the familiar doggerel, "Thirty days hath 
September," and the artificial arrangement of initial 
letters as in the word vibgyor for the order of the pris- 
matic colors, and divers schemes for remembering the 
signification of the various "signatures" of the musical 
staff. 

Summary. — That experience which is retained and reproduced 
must also be recognized as belonging to our own past before the 
act of memory is complete. 

We may distinguish between the mechanical, verbal memory 
of youth and the more rational memory of adult years. The one 
relies mainly on associations of contiguity; the other, upon 
relations of similarity and cause. 

The early form ot memory should be kept alive as long as 
possible, and not be disparaged or allowed to fall into disuse. 

So-called special memories are due to special interests or the 
greater excellence of certain sense-organs. 

Remembrance, or automatic memory, occurs through the mere 
succession of associated ideas or images; while recollection 
involves the exercise of will, and works by seeking for clues which 
may suggest the desired recall. 

Mnemonics is a term applied to various devices and systems 
for artificially aiding the memory. 



MEMORY 



115 












1. Attention ! 
J depending on ' 



O cc 



f 1. Brain Vigor. 

! Quantity. 
Quality. 
Change of. 

{ Immediate. 
3. Interest-] due to 
( Remote. 



Novelty. 
Familiarity. 



! 2. Repetition. 

1^ 1. Retention (as above) 
2. Recency 



3. Association 



I 



' Law of Contiguity j ^^^^ 

Law of Cause and Effect. 
Law of Similarity. 
Law of Contrast. 



3. Recognition 



CHAPTER XIX 

IMAGINATION 

The mental images which we have thus far considered, 
as furnished by memory, are remembered percepts, more 
or less exact copies of our own past experience. But the 
mind is able to transcend these limits and form images of 
experience not its own, of scenes remote in time and 
space. I have had a percept of Mount Tacoma, I may 
have memory-images of it at pleasure; but I may also 
form images of other mountains, of icebergs, and cathe- 
drals,which I have not seen. This is beyond the power of 
memory, yet not without the aid of memory. I have 
never seen an iceberg, but I have seen ice, broken frag- 
ments of ice floating in water, and have noticed how 
large a part of their bulk lies below the surface of the 
water. I have seen blocks of ice subjected to the action 
of the sun and becoming white and honeycombed. I 
have sometimes seen the iridescent effects from such ice 
when the sunlight is reflected from it. And from these 
experiences I can construct the iceberg floating in 
southern seas. I combine with the various appearances 
of ice and water the size of a great building, for instance ; 
and thus, from elements furnished first by perception and 
again by memory, I form an image of the unseen. 

Again, one who has never seen a cathedral but has seen 
churches containing various elements of cathedral archi- 
tecture may gather out those elements, under proper 
guidance, and recombine them into a new image. Thus, 

116 



IMAGIISTATIOK 117 

he may start, mentally, with a stone wall of any building, 
adding the pointed arches of one church, the buttresses 
of another, the stained glass windows of another, the 
spires and pinnacles of yet others, the interior columns 
and arches from some picture, even, thus building, more 
or less completely, a cathedral in his mind. This is 
imagination, which may be defined as the mind^s poioer of 
reproducing and recomhining into neiu forms the elemefits 
of past exjjerience. 

Tlie Process of Imagination. — The process above out- 
lined is seen to be a sort of patchwork composition not 
altogether unlike that of our grandmothers, who cut up 
calico into various figures and stitched the pieces together 
again, according to some design, into the famous bedquilts 
of bygone days. The stages of the imaginative process 
are (1) Reproduction, the revival, in part at least, of 
images of past experience. (2) Dissociation, the break- 
ing up of these memory-images and the selection of those 
elements needful for the new product. (3) Construction, 
the recombining of these elements, in due proportion, 
into a new whole, the image of something outside our own 
previous experience. This process is ordinarily guided by 
language as employed in descriptions, and may be greatly 
assisted by pictures in the imagining of visible objects; 
but in its higher forms imagination escapes from all lead- 
ing strings and independently creates new images and 
combinations. 

It is not to be understood that these three steps of the 
process of imagining are distinct in point of time; they 
coexist, or overlap. Indeed, we may be clearly conscious 
only of the final stage, construction. The image rises 
before us unbidden, often; but it can only arise out 
of materials of former experience retained and repro- 
duced. 



118 THE THEORY OF TEA.CHING 

Phases or Kinds of Imagination. — Imagination has been 
divided into Reprodnctive and Constructive ; but what is 
meant by reproductive imagination is simply memory, and 
only confusion results from calling it anything else. More- 
over, all imagination is iotli reproductive and constructive. 

A more valid distinction may be made between Passive 
and Active, or Automatic and Voluntary imagination. 
The first of these is seen in dreams, in day-dreaming, and 
in the uncontrolled fancy of children. Says Sully, "The 
sports of childish imagination are not the product of any 
mental [volitional?] effort, but seem rather to be the result 
of a 'fortuitous concourse of (imaginative) atoms.' Any 
kind of mental excitement, by greatly increasing the num- 
ber of [memory] images called up, as well as their degree 
of vividness, is favorable to this free, uncontrolled play of 
imagination." 

On the other hand, a more profitable exercise of imag- 
inative faculty is accompanied by volitional effort, giving 
it direction towards serviceable and more or less inten- 
tional products. This may be found both in scientific 
speculation and in literary creation by novelist or poet. 

The Uses of Imagination. — In time past, imagination 
has received, at the hands of some, a disparagement 
similar to that accorded of late to memory. It has been 
alleged that imagination is "like a peacock's tail," more 
ornamental than useful, more obstructive than profitable. 
It has been thought, too, to be a source of temptation 
and danger, morally speaking; and there is, of course, an 
element of truth in this view. "Vain imaginings" have 
always the possibility of moral danger; and imagination, 
like fire, is "a good servant but a bad master." 

The office and service of imagination in our mental life 
may best be seen by an analysis into its more or 
distinct uses. 



IMAGINATION^ 119 

Cogtiitive Imagination. — First, we may speak of the 
Cognitive Imagination, or imagination as employed in 
learning and knowing. In the field of geography, for 
instance, I have perceptive knowledge of those portions 
of the earth's surface which I have traveled over and per- 
sonally seen. All the rest of the world I can know only 
by testimony; and that testimony can be made available 
only by the exercise of imagination, my own imagination. 
The facts of history, in like manner, lie beyond my 
immediate ken and can be reached and apprehended only 
by the imagination. So, also, in physiology our appre- 
hension of the circulatory system, for instance, is to most 
persons merely such as imagination can construct. In 
geometry, such fundamental ideas as point and line are 
altogether imaginary; while astronomy furnishes an 
example of perhaps the most stupendous exercise of this 
all-embracing faculty. Perception has for its cognitive 
field only the present, a point of time; memory has a 
wider field, the past ; but imagination sweeps past, pres- 
ent, and future. Like death, it ''claims all seasons for 
its own." Let the pupil analyze carefully the work of a 
single day in each of his studies to discover the degree of 
his dependence on imagination in the knowing process, 
and he will doubtless be surprised at the result. Sense 
experience, though fundamental, as furnishing the raw 
materials of knowledge, is necessarily narrow and has 
relatively little value nntil taken up and recast by imag- 
ination, which gives our knowledge its widest extension. 

Inventive^ or Practical, Imagination. — But the doer as 
well as the thinker, the artisan as well as the student, 
finds constant need for the service of this faculty in what 
has been called the Practical, or Inventive, Imagination. 
The carpenter must have clearly in mind the final appear- 
ance and effect of the building or apparatus which he is 



120 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

about to construct. He cannot build even a hencoop, 
except from actual copy, without forming beforehand an 
image of that which is to be. The cook making a 
batch of bread has, beforehand, her ideal of how it 
ought to look, outside and inside, when it is done. The 
dressmaker and milliner have, presumably, clear images 
of the effects which they aim to produce; though the 
uninitiated observer might sometimes suspect the results 
to be due to accident rather than to "malice afore- 
thought." Even the farmer wishing to set a horse-post 
in his back yard, and selecting a stick from his wood-pile 
for that purpose, must exercise his imagination. He 
must have, beforehand, an image of the sort of stick 
needed, and even of the proper depth of the post-hole. 
Of course, the value of this phase of imagination to the 
machinist, the inventor, and the engineer is beyond com- 
putation. The end sought through the cognitive imagin- 
ation is knowledge; that of the inventive imagination is 
utility. 

^stlietic, or Artistic^ Imagination. — In contrast with 
these prosaic, cart-horse uses of imagination, we have — 
what many have thought of as its sole function — its 
use by painters, sculptors, and poets, the zEsthetic, or 
Artistic, Imagination. As the Cognitive imagination 
serves the ends of knowledge and the Inventive the ends 
of utility, so the /Esthetic has for its office to serve the 
ends of feeling, especially the feeling fo?' beatify. This is 
the distinct field of the fine arts — painting, sculpture, 
music, literature, and architecture, not forgetting histri- 
onic art. 

The object of the artist is twofold, first to express and 
relieve the feeling aroused within him by his ideals and 
images; and, secondly, to arouse admiration and aesthetic 
feeling in the minds of others. The work of art pro- 



IMAGINATION" 121 

duced with any lower aim than this is contemptuously 
called a "pot-boiler." 

Only a few of us are artists, but all have in some 
measure the power of appreciating and enjoying true 
works of art, representations of ideal beauty, and this 
capacity deserves all possible stimulation and direction at 
the hands of teachers. As poetry is the highest of all the 
arts, rising farther than any other above the field of sense, 
and carrying the mind of him who comprehends it beyond 
the sordid limitations of daily life, be he rich or poor, it 
deserves the most earnest and judicious attention from 
all instructors of the young. 

Etliical Imagination. — Still another field of imaginative 
exercise may be distinguished, that involved in our moral 
and spiritual development. This phase we may name the 
Ethical Imagination. Under this term, w^e place the 
mind's activity in setting up ideals of character. These 
are as truly constructive as any other products of imagin- 
ation; they are built up by the regular process of dissoci- 
ation and recombination. We admire the patience of one 
23erson, the integrity of another, the graciousness of a 
third, the courage of a fourth, and so on; and we gather 
up all these attributes into one ideal man, not neglecting, 
however, to retain some fragment, at least, of our own self 
as we concei\re it. 

Carrying this process still farther, we endeavor to form 
an absolute ideal, not of the perfect man, but of the 
perfect being, of absolute and infinite power and good- 
ness; and so the ethical imagination leads us to our con- 
ceptions, more or less crude, of Deity, the Absolute One. 
Thus our religious feelings and ideals are woven together 
into our spiritual life. 

Imagination and Emotion. — The intimate connection 
between imagination and emotion is a fact worthy of 



122 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

notice. Imagination is a sort of border land where intel- 
lect and sensibility meet and mingle and interact. 
Imagination is most active when the feelings are excited ; 
and the resulting images, in turn, still further excite the 
feelings. What is called the artistic temperament fur- 
nishes abundant illustration of this inherent connection 
between emotional activity and phantasy, or the image- 
making power. 

"TJie poet's eye in a fine phrensy rolling" is supposed 
to indicate an inspired state; but everything that we mean 
by inspiration, whether religious or artistic, involves the 
possession of the mind by strong feeling, arousing the 
imagination to its highest flights. The prophet and the 
poet alike illustrate this interdependence of imagination 
and emotion. 

But the same interdependence is found on a lower 
plane. The fears of children furnish an example, strong 
fear giving rise to phantoms which inspire fresh fear. 
A different example is found in the case of the young 
lover, whose intensity of tender emotion helps him to 
invest its object with graces and virtues not discoverable 
by other people. 

Imagination in Children. — Evidences of imaginative 
activity are discoverable in children at an early age. 
Even in the first year of life, if the infant sees his mother 
putting on her wraps to go out, he will manifest signs of 
delight and expectation; and these have been cited as 
evidences of incipient imagination. It is doubtful whether 
they signify anything more than association of ideas; yet 
association is doubtless the starting point of all repre- 
sentation, of imagination as well as remembrance. In the 
second year, signs of the free exercise of imagination 
multiply in connection with the play of the child. A good 
example is seen in play with dolls, and especially with the 



IMAGINATION" 123 

simple variety, or substitute, called paper dolls. A young 
child may form a collection of scores of these scissored 
bits of paper, each of which may not only receive its own 
permanent name but also a definite ascription of character 
and personality. A given one becomes consistently a good 
or bad, a sickly or quick-tempered child in all the many 
relations into which the little owner's active fancy may 
bring it. The conversion of a broomstick into a spirited 
or half-broken liorse, which rears and plunges and 
endangers its rider, is a famih'ar phenomenon of the 
nursery. So with the construction of "play-houses," 
snow forts, and the like. All this play of childish imag- 
ination is admirably pictured in the following extract 
from Wordsworth's ode on "Intimations of Immortality 
from Eecollections of Early Childhood." 



" Behold the child among his new-born blisses — 
A six years' darling of a pigmy size! 
See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies, 
Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, 
With light upon him from his father's eyes! 
See, at his feet, some little plan or chert, 
Some fragment from his dream of human life, 
Shaped by himself with newly learned art — 
A wedding or a festival, a mourning or a funeral — 

And this hath now his heart. 

And unto this he frames his song. 

Then will he fit his tongue 
To dialogues of business, love, or strife; 

But it will not be long 

Ere this be thrown aside, 

And with new joy and pride 
The little actor cons another part — 
Filling from time to time his ' humorous stage' 
With all the persons, down to palsied age, 
That life brings with her in her equipage; 
As if his whole vocation were endless imitation." 



124 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

Crudity of CJiildish Fancy. — The imagination of child- 
hood, while very active, is nevertheless crude and undevel- 
oped. The child's lack of experience makes him 
credulous; he knows no reason why centaurs, mermaids, 
and dragons should not actually exist. Yet the higher 
exercises of the constructive faculty are beyond his reach. 
Through the quickness of his fancy, he is at the mercy of 
unwise nurse-maids and questionable associates in his 
most impressible years, and often he is left in such danger 
through the thoughtlessness or ignorance of parents. 
Thus the bugaboo stories, of the bogey, or the "black 
man," or "the goblins," sometimes told to children by 
servants as a means of frightening them into obedience 
or quiet, may lay the foundation for life -long fears and 
suffering. 

Dangers of Imagination. — The dangers from maltreat- 
ment or neglect of childish imagination may be graded 
under several heads. 

(1) The confusion of fact and fancy. A child of deli- 
cate nervous organization and sensitive nature may have 
its mind so filled up with exciting fairy stories — like 
Grimm's Tales, for instance — that the border line between 
reality and fancy becomes partially obliterated. What 
are called "children's lies" are often only the natural 
product of such conditions. They really have no moral 
quality, but are nevertheless a source of danger. Care 
and discrimination should be exercised here. Some chil- 
dren are too matter-of-fact and unimpressible to be in any 
danger from overstimulation of fancy; but others need 
to be carefully guarded and not left to revel riotously in 
exciting stories. 

(2) At a later period, a worse danger arises in connec- 
tion with the "dime novel" or "yellow" sort of literature, 
if literature it can be called, the danger of inciting unreal 



IMAGINATION' 125 

views of life. The boy whose mind is saturated with such 
*'rot" forms low and vulgar ideals, and naturally aspires 
to become, in fact, as well as in fancy, the Indian-killer, 
cowboy, or bandit of the yellow novel. As a matter of 
fact, thousands of boys have been thus corrupted and 
sent on a wrong track in life, through perverted imagina- 
tions, only to bring up in the reformatory or prison, if 
not at the rope's end. In like manner, many a girl, revel- 
ing not in the blood-and- thunder but the mush-and-honey 
type of cheap novel, forms the mental habit of looking 
forward to a life of idle luxury, and waiting inanely for 
the wealthy suitor, the princely lover, who shall carry her 
away from the limitations of real life to a land of dreams. 
She may end by becoming the slatternly, inefficient wife 
of whatever sort of man she can finally catch, or her end 
may be of a kind still worse, but unspeakable. 

(3) To the person who is crossing the threshold of 
adult life, imagination becomes the servant of vice. 
'* Vice is a monster of such hideous mien, that to be hated 
needs but to be seen," if seen in all its naked deformity. 
But it seldom is thus seen. Art 'is called to its service, 
and imagination casts a glamour over what would other- 
wise be repulsive. Meretricious literature, pictures, songs, 
and, worst of all, the exciting melodrama and vaudeville 
of the variety theater, all tend to gild licentiousness and 
lure the young man on to perilous indulgence and tamper- 
ing with sin. The chambers of his mind, instead of being 
kept ''beautiful, entire, and clean," come to be hung with 
impure images which take hold on the ways of death. 
lm;pure images are thus the latest and chief of the dan- 
gers which imagination, i± not duly chastened and wisely 
nurtured, may lay in the path of the young. 

Cultivation of Imagination. — The culture of the imag- 
iuatioQ is, therefore, a matter of the most vital impor- 



126 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

tance, first, to make it the efficient servant of the intellect 
as the great expander of knowledge, and, secondly, that 
it may serve the life and character by the creation of pure 
and ennobling ideals. This culture may be both positive 
and negative. On the positive side, there must be (1) a 
clue provision of proper material. To this end, the child 
should have great variety of sensation and of all whole- 
some experience. Children should be taken to parks ahd 
zoological gardens, to fairs and through industrial estab- 
lishments, with such amount of general travel as may be 
practicable, that their stock of raw material for the uses 
of imaginative reconstruction may be as large as possible. 

(2) Next comes due exercise of the constructive power. 
This is initiated, in the little child, by stories; later it is 
secured by narratives involving much description, such as 
are found in the Zigzag Journeys, Knox's "Boy Travel- 
ers," and similar books. History follows next, beginning 
with books of action, like Coffin's "Boys of '76," but 
coming in due time to Macaulay's England. Interest in 
literature should not be allowed to stop with the novel, 
but should be led on to an application and enjoyment of 
poetry — true poetry and not mere jingle. The Heading 
Class in the elementary school furnishes excellent occasion 
and means for the exercise of imagination in both its 
cognitive and aesthetic aspects. 

(3) On the negative side, the work properly begins in 
the home, in the guarding of children against the forming 
and harboring of impure images. The damage is often 
done early. Long before parents have awakened to any 
sense of danger, the process of corruption may have got 
well under way, through the influence of evil-minded 
associates, unthinking servants, and unscrupulous adver- 
tising quacks. But in school also there is need for vigi- 
lance. One evil-minded boy in a large school may prove a 



IMAGINATIOK 127 



sinner destroyeth much good." The teacher should 
never forget that imaginative power may minister to the 
highest interests of the human soul or it may lay snares 
to trap it into all that is vile and debasing. 

Summary. — Our image-making power is not confined to the 
present, but may reach through all time and space. Imagination 
pictures the as yet unseen by reproducing and recombining the 
elements of past experience. 

The process of imagination includes three steps, Reproduction, 
Dissociation, and Construction. 

It may be distinguished as Automatic and Voluntary. 

It may also be denominated, according to its uses, as (1) Cog- 
nitive, as employed in learning and knowing; (2) Inventive, or 
practical, as used m doing or making; (3) ^Esthetic, or artistic, 
as serving the ends of feeling; and (4) Ethical, as involved in 
our moral and spiritual development. 

Imagination is intimately connected with emotion; it is the 
border land of intellect and sensibility. 

Imagination appears early in children, especially in connection 
with the play instinct. It is then active, but not highly developed, 
taking the simple and crude forms of childish fancy. 

Certain dangers from the misdirection of childish imagination 
are (1) Confusion of fact and fancy, (2) Unreal views of life, (3) Im- 
pure imaginings. 

The cultivation of imagination involves (1) A due provision 
of proper materials, (2) Due exercise of the constructive power, 
(3) The proper guarding of children against the forming of impure 
images. 



CHAPTER XX 



CONCEPTION 



The Thought Powers. — We have thus far considered 
only those impressions and effects which are produced by 
individual objects and events, and the mind's reaction 
upon them as individuals. We have studied the Pre- 
sentative Power of the mind, Perception, and the Repre- 
sentative Powers, Memory and Imagination, all of which 
yield only the individual notion. We come now to the 
general notion and those mental operations which are 
included under tlie term Thought. The so-called 
Thought Powers are distinguished as Conception, Judg- 
ment, and Reasoning. These operations are closely inter- 
related; but, logically, that of conception is fundamental 
and must be first comprehended. 

The process called conception results in mental prod- 
ucts, or ideas, called concepts. It will be useful for us 
to gain, at the outset, a clear understanding of the proper 
application of this term, since it has been so loosely used 
in pedagogical literature that the reader is often confused 
by its ambiguity. By some, it has been employed to 
denote almost any state or form of consciousness, a use 
for which the term psychosis would be better fitted. Let 
us proceed to illustrate the correct use of the term. 

Concepts. — Let the reader try to have in consciousness 
all that is ever meant by the word soldier; not the image 
of an individual soldier but the idea of soldiers in general. 
At the first sight or sound of the word, there will doubt- 

128 



CONCEPTION" 129 

less come into mind the image of a man in uniform of 
some particular color and armed with weapons of some 
particular style. He may be imaged as either on foot or 
on horseback. But while the word soldier may stand for 
such an individual, it also has a much wider application. 
Soldier may mean either cavalryman, infantryman, or 
artilleryman; spearman, bowman, or musketeer; clad in 
any style or color of uniform according to nationality; of 
varying age, size, or even sex, so broadly inclusive is the 
term. And yet it is also exclusive, for certain definite 
attributes, or qualities, are essential to every soldier. Let 
us say, soldiers are all persons trained and organized to 
fight in the service of a nation. This general notion of a 
class of persons or things is called a concept, or, still 
more accurately, a class concept. All class concepts are 
represented in language by common nouns. 

The Process of Conception. — The process of conception 
may be analyzed into four steps or stages. (1) Compar- 
ison, or the discerning of the likeness and unlikeness of a 
number of percepts or images. This, of course, implies 
presentation, or perception, as an antecedent process. 
(2) The mind skims off, so to speak, or separates out for 
closer attention, those attributes, or qualities, which are 
discerned to be commoji to all the individuals compared. 
This drawing off of the common qualities and rejection 
of all others, no matter how striking or conspicuous, is 
called Abstraction. (3) But the common qualities are 
abstracted for a purpose. The next step is that of 
grouping together in mind all individuals which possess 
these qualities in common, or the formation of classes on 
the basis of common attributes. This act is called Gen- 
eralization, the word being derived from genera^ the 
plural of the Latin word genus, meaning a class. (4) But 
the process is not yet complete. The notion of a class, 



130 THE THEORY OP TEACHING 

thus reached, is incommunicable and unmanageable until 
it has been marked off by a name common to all the class, 
a common noun. This step is called Denomination. The 
essentiality of this step to the complete process of con- 
ception will be more fully considered in a future chapter. 

Illustration of the Groivth of a Concept. — The rise of 
concepts in the mind of a child may be illustrated by the 
following example. Suppose a child in country or village 
to be familiar with a large building adjacent to the dwell- 
ing but devoted to different uses. In it are horses and 
other animals, with their fodder and perhaps sundry 
vehicles. Moreover, this place seems well suited to the 
play of the child and his mates. So long as this is the 
only building of the sort which he knows, he has only 
percepts or images of it, and the word liarn is a proper 
noun. His idea of barn is only an individual notion. 
But, in time, he visits neighboring premises and finds 
there buildings devoted to similar uses, though differing 
in many particulars, as color, size, and material. The 
child compares them, abstracts the common qualities — 
home for domestic animals, storehouse for their food, 
place for boys to play in — generalizes all such buildings 
into a class, and extends to them all the term barn, which 
now becomes a common noun. 

Abstract Notions. — We are now prepared for a further 
step in clearing up our idea of what concepts are. Some 
concepts are not class concepts. The process of abstrac- 
tion may be carried so far as to eliminate all the qualities 
of the compared objects except one, and then we may 
apply a name to that quality as such, without any refer- 
ence to the individual objects possessing it. Thus we 
designate single, abstract (abstracted) qualities by such 
words as height^ lueiglit^ hardness^ goodness^ truthy tem- 
perance^ and the like. These we appropriately call 



CONCEPTION" 131 

abstract nouns, and the ideas which they represent are 
called abstract notions. We thus have two kinds of con- 
cepts, (1) class concepts, represented by common nouns, 
and (2) abstract notions, represented by abstract nouns. 
The old grammar-book definition, "An abstract noun is 
the name of a quality considered apart from the thing to 
which it belongs," is pertinent in this connection. If a 
definition is demanded for concepts as a whole, we may 
simply say, A concept is a general notion. 

Of course, these abstract qus^lities are not distinct things 
possessed by objects ; they are, in fact, only effects pro- 
duced on our minds by classes of objects. They are, in a 
sense, simply influences which objects exert; that is what 
we mean by qualities. 

Concepts Ccmnot he Imaged. — Because of its gener- 
ality, a concept cannot be imaged. An image is always 
individual, a concept is general. Let us take another 
example of the way in which concepts are formed, by 
trying to abstract the essential common qualities of the 
concept tree. If we say that a tree must have a trunk, 
we still cannot specify any given length or diameter. Its 
length may be one inch or a hundred feet. If we say that 
leaves are essential to a tree, we cannot assign any par- 
ticular form; and the tree may be either deciduous or 
evergreen. We agree that roots are essential to all trees, 
but of what length or spread? A tree must have sap cir- 
culating through its parts, but that can hardly be imaged. 
If we now try to gather up only these essential character- 
istics, we have no more than the ghost of a tree. Though 
roots, sap, etc., are very real, they are not picturable in 
general but only in particular. 

It is doubtless true, with most minds at least, that the 
hearing or sight of a common noun usually calls into con- 
sciousness the image of some possible individual of the 



lo2 THE THEOHY OF TEACHING 

class; but this preliminary image is only a forerunner and 
not the concept. It may well be called a "symbolic 
image," but it should be clearly distinguished from the 
class concept which it symbolizes. 

As in perception we must distinguish between the per- 
cept and the perceived object, so in conception we must 
not confuse the concept with the body of individuals 
from which it is derived. For example, if we had all the 
elephants in the world gathered into one enclosure, they 
would not constitute the concept elephant. The concept 
is purely a mental creation. 

Concepts Not Fixed or Uniform in Content. — We must 
carefully guard against thinking of concepts as definite 
and permanent products with constant values. The con- 
cept of virtue^ or even the concept plant., for instance, is 
not the same in different minds nor in the same mind at 
different times or ages. A concept is, it has been said, 
*'a bundle of qualities." But it does not always contain 
the same qualities. A concept is "a way of looking at 
things," "the way things go together"; as in the concept 
triangle., which does not simply represent a class of facts, 
but a way of thinking lines together. 

Concepts are always in the process of growth. The 
child's idea of ayiimal is at first crude and fragmentary. 
It lacks intension, since he has not abstracted all the 
essential attributes; and it also lacks extension, inasmuch 
as he does not consciously include all the constituent 
species. He does not yet realize that worms or mosquitoes 
are animals. Children's concepts are little more than 
shells, which must be gradually filled with meaning as the 
growth of experience and reflection make such develop- 
ment possible. The ordinary person's concept of orange 
is very different from that of the botanist, the artist, or 
the chemist. The concept may be conceived, then, as a 



COI^CEPTIOK 133 

living, growing mental entity, and not simply as an intel- 
lectual coin which is legal tender in all markets. 

Relations of Concepts: Genus and Species. — Class con- 
cepts as such have certain properties and relations, a clear 
apprehension of which is very important to the educator. 
Of these relations, the first to be considered is that of 
Genus and Species. If, in several kindred concepts, as 
corn^ lulieat^ rice^ we should carry the process of abstrac- 
tion still farther and discard some of the specific attributes 
of each, we could combine them all into one larger class 
called cereals. This new class is genus to all the others 
which it includes, while each of them is species to the 
genus. 

A genus is a class luhich may he divided into smaller 
classes called species. 

A species is one of the classes formed hg the division of 
a genus. 

This division or separation is effected by the addition 
of one or more essential attributes in the case of each 
species. Thus, to the essential qualities of cereal^ in the 
example above, we add, to form the concept cor7i^ that 
particular quality which distinguishes it from all other 
grains. This attribute is called its specific difference. 
Thus the word cart represents a species of the genus 
vehicle; its specific difference being "two-wheeled," which 
marks off all carts from other vehicles. The number of 
species which can be formed from any concept taken as 
genus is limited only by the number of distinctive 
attributes, or differenticB^ which may be abstracted and 
added, in turn, to the essential attributes of the genus. 

While concepts may thus be said to include others as 
their species, they do not bear to each other the relation 
of whole arid part. That is a relation existing only 
between individuals. A particular limb is a part of a 



134 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

tree; but the concept limb is not a part of the concept 
tree ; it represents all limbs of all trees. Mexico is a part 
of North America, both being individuals. 

Intension and Extension. — Every class concept may be 
considered from two points of view, (1) That of the 
common attributes which inhere in it and constitute its 
meaning, (2) That of the number of individuals comprised 
under it, in the class which it represents. This latter 
aspect constitutes what is called the Extension, or Denota- 
tion, of the concept. The first named aspect constitutes 
the Intension, or Connotation, of the concept. Together 
they constitute the breadth and dei)th of the idea. Thus, 
if we compare the concepts animal and vertebrate we shall 
see that animal comprises a greater number of individuals 
than vertebrate; it has greater extension. On the other 
hand, vertebrate has at least one distinctive quality, 
backbone, which is not possessed by all animals. Verte- 
brate has, therefore, greater intension than animal. 

Extension is tliat aspect or attribute of concepts which 
has reference to the iiumher of individuals comprised. 
Intension is that aspect of concepts ivhich relates to the 
essential attributes of the concept. The intension of a 
concept is, in a sense, its significance, or meaning. 

The broadest or most extensive of all concepts, called 
by logicians the siunmum genus^ is that of being (thing), 
which has but one attribute, that of existence, for which 
reason it comprises an infinite number of individuals. It 
has the maximum of extension and the minimum of 
intension. This inverse ratio of extension to intension 
prevails with all concepts; every addition of a required 
attribute cuts down the number of individuals possessing 
all the requirements. Whereas, the removal of any 
attribute as essential enlarges at once the bounds of the 
concept. 



CONCEPTION 135 

Concepts in Series. — This connection of concepts with 
one another in series, under the relation of genus and 
species, is exhibited in the following outline: 

Concepts. Attributes. 

SuMMUM Genus — Being — Existence. 

Matter Existence+ weight, etc. 

Organic Matter . . Existence-!- weight-|-life. 

Animal Existence-}- weigh t-|-Hfe -|- motion, etc. 

Vertebrate Existence-j-weight-j-life -j- motion + back- 
bone. 

Mammal Existence-j-weight-j-life -\- motion -|- back- 
bone-!- suckling 

Man Existence-f-weight-f-life -f- motion -{- back- 

bone-f-suckling-f-language. 

Caucasian Existence-f-weight-f-life -|- motion -|- back- 

bone-f-suckling-{-language-}- white, etc. 

Teuton, etc. 






Infima Species, the smallest possible class of men of the Teu- 
tonic genus. Individual, Bismarck. 

The summum. genus has only one attribute, but infinite 
extension. The individual (which is not a concept) has 
its extension numerically expressed by one, but has an 
indefinite number of attributes; its intension is great. 
Each of the subaltern genera is genus to all below it in the 
series, but is species to all abov^e it. The summum genus 
can never be species ; and the infima species can never be 
genus, being incapable of division into smaller classes. 

This logical relation of genus and species between class 
concepts is one of the utmost importance, lying at the 
bottom of all scientific classification and essential to all 
intelligent comprehension of the universe. 

Summary. — In distinction from the presentative and represent- 
ative powers which yield only individual notions, Conception, 
Judgment, and Reasoning are known as the Thought Powers. 
These have to do with general notions and the relations between 
them. 

Conception is the process of which concepts are the product. 



136 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

Concepts are general notions, or ideas, of which we distinguish 
two kinds, class concepts and abstract notions. 

Class concepts are represented in language by common nouns; 
abstract notions, by abstract nouns. 

The process of conception comprises four steps, viz., Comparison, 
Abstraction, Generalization, and Denomination. 

Abstraction is the separating off, for closer attention, of the 
common qualities of individual objects. 

Generalization is the grouping into classes of objects on the 
basis of common qualities. 

Abstract notions are our ideas of single qualities considered 
apart from the objects to which they belong. 

Concepts are not fixed or constant products, but are always in 
the process of growth. 

Class concepts bear to each other the relation of genus and 
species. A genus is a class which may be divided into smaller 
classes called species; a species is one of the smaller classes formed 
by the subdivision of a genus. 

Concepts have the attributes of Extension and Intension. Ex- 
tension has reference to the number of individuals comprised; 
intension to the essential attributes of the concept. 



CHAPTER XXI 

DEFINITION AND DIVISION 

Definition, — There are two ways by which the applica- 
tion of a general term may be unfolded, (1) Through its 
Intension, (2) By reference to its Extension. An accurate 
setting forth of the essential attributes of a concept is 
called Definition. A definition is a statement of the 
intension of a concept; hence definition pertains only to 
concepts, or general notions. We describe individuals; 
we define concepts. As its etymology indicates (from 
fines^ boundaries) , the purpose of definition is both inclu- 
sive and exclusive. A proper definition shuts out from 
the class all individuals which do not belong to it and 
includes all that do, like a pasture fence. It need hardly 
be said, however, that much which passes as definition is 
very loose and inadequate. 

The Structure of a Defi7iition. — Since a complete enu- 
meration of all the attributes of a given concept would 
often be laborious and tedious, we economize time and 
effort by the device of first naming the proximate genus 
of the concept under definition and then adding its specific 
difference, or differentia; namely, the quality or qualities 
which differentiate it from other species of that genus. 
Thus we define chair as "a movable seat" (genus), and 
proceed to add its differentia, ''with a back and designed 
for one person." 

Definition is a difficult process, and its difficulty lies in 
the accurate performance of the ac't of abstraction, in 

137 



138 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

determining precisely what are the essential common 
qualities of the concept defined. For the same reason, it 
is a valuable exercise, when properly directed, as a disci- 
pline in analysis and exact thinking. But the mere "par- 
roting" of definitions, learning them by rote without clear 
comprehension of their exact force and application, may 
prove an illusory and injurious labor. 

All framing of exact, scientific definitions involves a 
careful adherence to the following 

Rides of Definition. — (1) A definition should comprise 
all and only the essential attributes of the concept defined. 

(2) It should not contain the term defined nor any of 
its derivatives. 

(3) It should not be expressed in obscure, ambiguous, 
or figurative language. 

(4) It should not be negative in form when it can be 
affirmative. 

It will be noted, however, that some words are merely 
negations, being formed from others by the use of a nega- 
tive prefix, as unsound, nonessential, etc. A caution 
needs to be given also against the use of what might be 
called "double-barreled" definitions. For instance, the 
old grammar-books defined verb as "a word used to 
denote being, action, or state." Here is a thoroughly 
ambiguous statement, applying to no one class of words 
but to three. The process of abstraction was not carried 
to the point of determining the one essential attribute of 
all verbs, namely, the power, or function, of asserting. 
Nouns may "denote action, being, or state" as truly as 
verbs. Such ambiguous and confusing definitions work 
serious harm in the minds of young learners. 

Exercise in ApjjJying the Rules of Definition. — Let the 
pupil now determine which of the above rules are violated 
by the following attempts at definition, viz. : 



DEFINITIOI^ AND DIVISION 139 

** Sunday is the golden clasp that binds the volume of 
the week." 

"Life is the act of living." 

"Life is the sum of all the vital functions." 

"Words are the articulate signs by which an orator 
expresses his ideas." 

"Words are signs of ideas." 

"Evil is that which is not good." 

"Deity is the circle whose center is everywhere and 
whose circumference is nowhere." 

It will be observed that they are correct in form or 
structure. 

Let the class now make a careful effort to frame true 
definitions for the following words, observing the rules 
above given: chaise^ watch, oaTc, liorse, string, arithmetic, 
hook, church, adjective, and others. 

Logical Division. — A second mode of unfolding the 
application of general terms is that by reference to their 
extension. For instance, a young child hearing the word 
animal will demand to know its application. The method 
of definition, involving the use of abstract terms, is not 
adapted to the infantile stage of development, and cannot 
be successfully employed. We may point the child to. 
various individual animals, saying, ''''That is an animal, 
and that is an animal," and so on. This method, by par- 
ticular instances, will serve a temporary purpose excel- 
lently; but, of course, it can never attain completeness of 
result. 

With a child a little older, instead of pointing out indi- 
viduals, we may abridge the process by citing familiar 
species of animal, thus, "Dogs are animals, cats are 
animals, chickens are animals," and so on. This method, 
the opposite of definition, is called Division, or more 
definitely, Logical Division. ''■Logical Division is the 



140 THE THEORY OJb^ TEACHING 

enumeration of the constituent sj^ecies of a proximate 

genus.'''' The sign of this kind of division is the brace, •< . 

Division is an essential factor in all the classifications and 
systemizations of the natural sciences. The most elabo- 
rate and complete instance of it, perhaps, is found in the 
Botanical "Key." 

Certain rules which must be observed in division are as 
follows : 

Rules for Division. — (1) The constituent species must 
exclude each, other (must not overlap). 

(2) The division must be made, throughout, on one 
basis or principle. 

(3) The species, taken together, must equal the genus 
divided. 

Let the pupil now divide the concepts 7nan^ triangle^ 
leaf, etc., paying due heed to the rules above given. 

Summary. — The application of a general term may be unfolded 
by reference to its intension or its extension. The first method 
is called definition; the latter, division. 

A definition is a statement of the intension of a concept. 

In constructing a definition, we first state the genus under which 
the concept belongs and then its specific difference There are 
four rules which must be observed in all exact definition. 

Logical division is the enumeration of the constituent species 
of a proximate genus. Certain definite rules must also be observed 
in the division of a genus into species. 



CHAPTER XXII 



JUDGMENT 



What toe Mean by Judgment. — Concepts arise, as we 
have seen, from the comparison, analysis, and generaliza- 
tion of images and percepts. Next in order of complex- 
ity among mental operations, we come to the comparison 
of ideas and discernment of their relations. The me7ital 
affirmation of agreement or disagreement hetiveen ideas is 
called a judgment. The term Judgment is also applied 
to the power and the act of making such mental affirma- 
tions ; it is the second stage in Thinking. The language 
in which a judgment is expressed is called a proposition, or 
a (simple) sentence. Judgments are thoughts; they bear 
the same relation to ideas that sentences do to words. 
*'A word is the sign of an idea"; "A sentence is a 
thought expressed in words," we are told in the grammar- 
book. 

The forming of a judgment seems, at first thought, a 
simple matter, just the yoking of ideas together in pairs; 
but, in fact, it proves to be the supreme effort of the 
mind. All other mental processes exist in order that we 
may form judgments. And the validity of our judgments 
depends upon the clearness and soundness with which we 
discern the true relations of ideas. 

141 



142 *riIE THEORY OF TEACHING 

Tlie Essential Farts, or Elements, of a Judgment. — The 
essential parts, or elements, of a proposition, are three, the 
subject^ ])redicate, and copula. The copula, as the name 
implies, is the coupling or connecting word, whose oflico 
is to assert the relation between subject and predicate. 
In many — perhaps the majority — of propositions, how- 
ever, the copula and predicate are merged into one word — 
*' telescoped," as it were. Thus, instead of saying "Fishes 
are swimmers," we say "Fishes swim." When the copula 
is separately expressed, it is the verb, or asserting word of 
the sentence; and the predicate word is always a noun or 
an adjective, as in "Crows are cunning," "Whales are 
mammals." But when copula and predicate are combined 
in one word, that word is a verb, as in "Dogs growl." 
The copula is either some form of the verb to he or of 
words which assert some hypothetical mode of existence, 
as seem, appear, feel, looh, sound, taste, smell. "It seems 
heavy" means it is heavy to appearance; "It tastes good" 
means it is good to the taste. The subject of a proposi- 
tion is always a substantive. 

Nature of the Predicate Idea. — The subject idea may 
be either a percept, image, or concept; but, in general, 
the predicate idea must be a concept, as in "This dog is 
a collie," "The dog we saw yesterday is a spaniel," "All 
dogs are vertebrates." The predicate, moreover, is 
always, whether represented by noun or adjective, a more 
extensive, or broader, idea than the subject; it includes the 
subject, as in the examples given above. Thinking has 
been defined as "subsuming subjects under predicates," 
and this definition at least emphasizes a thought of 
importance from the pedagogical standpoint. This gen- 
eral relation of subject to predicate has been well exhibited 
by what is known as Euler's Notation, in which circles 
are employed to indicate the relative extension. 



JUDGMENT 



143 



Suo^ar is sweet. 



Horses are useful. 




Birds fly. 



An important exception must be noted, however, to 
the rule that the predicate includes the subject. In such 
judgments as "That boy's name is John," "Two times 
two are four," "A right line is a straight line," '■^Mercator 
means merchant," the subject and predicate coincide, or 
have exactly the same extension. These may be called 
judgments of identity. In mathematics, they are called 
equations. 

Classification of Judgments. — Judgments are divided 

into classes on several bases, or principles, namely, 

,_,.. ,. ,^ ,., (Affirmative. 

(l)Accordrag to Quality I ^^^^y^^ 

A negative judgment affirms disagreement instead of 
agreement between the ideas compared, as "Some roses 
are not fragrant." 

[ Singular. 

(2) According to Quantity -< Particular. 

( Universal, or General. 

By quantity is meant the quantity, or extension, of the 
subject. 

A Singular judgment is one whose subject is a single 
individual, as "Theodore Roosevelt is president," "That 
boy threw the stone." 



144 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

A General, or Universal, judgment is one whose subject 
is a whole class, an unbroken concept, as "Horses 
eat grass," "All men are mortal," "No man desires 
pain." 

A Particular judgment is one whose subject is some 
part of a class, a broken concept, as "Some days are 
stormy," "Some fishes have no scales," "Most men love 
money." 

This classification of judgments is of more importance 
to the teacher than any other, through its relation to 
method. 

... ,. . p. ■ - \ Dii*ect, Immediate, Intuitive. 

( Indirect, Mediate, Reasoned. 

A Direct, or Intuitive, judgment, as its name implies, 
is one which is arrived at instantly, without any labored 
process of deliberation or reasoning, as "This day is 
cold," "I am hungry," "Things equal to the same thing 
are equal to each other." 

A Mediate, or Reasoned, judgment is one which is 
derived from other judgments by a process of comparison 
and reasoning, as "Eggs will be dear next January," "Ice 
is a mineral substance," "All particles of matter attract 
each other." 

The word intuitive is derived from the Latin intueo7\ 
to behold directly. Intuition thus means a direct behold- 
ing. Intuitions have been distinguished as (1) Sense 
Intuitions, or perceptive judgments. (2) Rational Intui- 
tions, axioms, as "The whole is equal to the sum of all its 
parts." (3) Moral Intuitions, as the universal apprehen- 
sion of moral distinction between acts, the conviction that 
there is a right and a wrong in human conduct. 

Logicians have also classified judgments as Analytic 
and Synthetic; but this distinction has no pedagogical 
value, amounting only to a distinction between old and 



JUDGMENT 145 

new judgments. The same judgment may thus be ana- 
lytic to one mind and synthetic to another. 

Again, judgments may be classified as Categorical and 
Hypothetical. A categorical judgment is one that is 
affirmed unconditionally; it is definite and unqualified, 
as "Freedom is a necessary condition of well-being." 
A hypothetical judgment is one that affirms a relation 
conditionally, as "If a man is free, he should be happy." 

An Exercise in Classification of Judgments.— 1\\ order 
to impress and clarify the distinctions recognized in the 
last lesson, let the pupil classify according to each of the 
three specified bases, or principles, the following judg- 
ments, viz. : 

1. Some violets are not odorous. 

2. Unsupported bodies fall to the earth. 

3. No seaweed is a flowering plant. 

4. This day is cold. 

0. Material bodies have weight. 

6. The moon shines by borrowed light. 

7. Dynamite is dangerous. 

8. Boys are often lazy. 

9. Some men are ruined by riches. 

10. The proper study of mankind is man. 

Elder's Notation further Illustrated. — AYe may now 
profitably make some further exemplification of Euler's 
Notation as applied to different kinds of judgments. In 
general judgments, as already seen, the subject circle lies 
wholly within the predicate circle, as in "All men are 
mortaL" 




146 



THE THEORY OF TEACHING 



With particular judgments the circles will intersect, as in 
*'Some grapes are sweet." 



( ''^^(%)eet J 



The same diagram will fit the negative judgment, **Some 
grapes are not sweet. ' ' 



es 



With universal negative judgments, however, the circles 
will exclude each other, as in 



"Ferns are not flowering 
plants. ' ' 



In judgments of identity the circles will coincide, as in 




"Quadrupeds are four-footed." 



In singular judgments the subject would be represented 
by a point instead of a circle, as in 




JUDGMENT 147 




'* Bismarck was a statesman." 



Indistinct Judgments; tlieir Causes. — The value of a 
judgment depends mainly upon its clearness. The bane 
of human thinking is not so much mistaken as vague and 
confused judgments; and this is nowhere truer than in 
the work of the schools. Education has been a failure 
with thousands of youths because they have not attained 
to clear judgments at each step in the subjects which 
they were supposed to be learning. 

The causes of indistinct judgment should be clearly 
recognized, that they may be duly guarded against. They 
are: 

(1) Imperfect Perception, as when one wrongly judges 
the height of a silk hat, the length of a horse's head, the 
circumference of a tree, or the width of a wagon track. 

(2) Imperfect or Fading Memory, as when one mistakes 
concerning the facts of his past experience or of history. 

(3) Imperfect Conception, which is the most pervasive 
and insurmountable obstacle to clear judgment. For 
illustration, place before the pupil such judgments as 
"Arson is venial," "Penuriousness is a vice," and ask 
him to take a positive stand, with reasons, as to their 
truth. If he has not clear concepts for both subject and 
predicate, he is not qualified to form any clear judgment 
as to their relation, and will so confess. 

(4) The Intrusion of Feeling. An angry man's judg- 
ment is proverbially valueless. Men in a burning building 
do the most irrational things in their excitement. Our 
judgment as to future events is colored by our intensa 
desires. We talk of our judgment as cool^ calm^ when we 



148 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

wish to command confidence in it. When feelings are 
habitual, chronic, so to speak, we suffer from the bias of 
Judgment known as 2)rcjudice. 

(5) Taking Judgments at second-hand. This is illus- 
trated in the political and religious judgments of most 
young people, to say nothing of older ones. The opinions 
of parents are apt to be adopted without question and 
without clear comprehension. The books and newspapers 
of the home add to this effect, since they naturally har- 
monize with the parental beliefs. But a more serious 
effect' of this cause is found in the work of the school- 
room. The hazy, unusable body of indistinct judgments 
which the average pupil carries away from the school are 
the natural result of so much text-book work, with its 
acceptance of second-hand judgments on authority and so 
little efficient use of his own powers of observation. 

Relation of Judgment to Other Mental Pi^ocesses. — 
While, from, the standpoint of the logician, judgment is 
rated as one of the higher powers of the mind, ranking 
above memory, imagination, and conception, the psychol- 
ogist finds it parallel with and indeed entering into all 
the other activities. Thus in the act of perception, which 
consists in the interpretation of sensations, we found 
inference to be one of the steps in the process. We judge 
the given sensation to be due to a certain cause, as when 
we refer a given sound to a steam whistle rather than to 
the milkman's horn. The act of inference in such a case 
is not necessarily a formal judgment, with its terms dis- 
tinctly expressed. It is implicit rather than explicit, a 
judgment folded in the bud rather than in full bloom. 
So also in memory, there is an implicit, rudimentary 
judgment of identity, of recognition; and in creative 
imagination there is a judgment of fitness, the fitness of 
dissociated elements to enter into the new combination. 



JUDGMENT 149 

Relation of Judgment to Conception. — While judgment. 
in one sense, is based on conception and consists in the 
relating of concepts, it is, on the other hand, an essential 
part of the act of concept-forming. Reciprocity is the 
jaw of their action. Each process is dependent on the 
other; no judgments without concepts, no concepts with- 
out judgment. The question of which comes first, concep- 
tion or judgment, is much like the old puzzle, "Which 
was first, the chicken or the Qg^V' a question which has 
found its answer in the theory of evolution. Perception, 
conception, and judgment mount together in a spiral 
course. 

The great difficulty which most obstructs clear judg- 
ment is the difficulty of close and accurate analysis, the 
difficulty of accurate abstraction. For such analysis is 
the vital thing in clear conception, and consequently in 
correct judgment. But this analysis, again, is only one 
form of critical judgment. 

Summary. — The mental affirmation of agreement or disagree- 
ment between ideas is called a judgment. The term is also apphed 
to the mind's power to make such affirmations. 

The essential parts of a judgment are the subject, predicate, 
and copula, but predicate and copula are often combined in one. 

In general, the predicate idea is a concept and includes the 
subject, except in equations, or judgments of identity. 

Judgments are divided on different bases, as quality, quantity, 
origin, etc. The most important distinction to the teacher is 
that between particular and general judgments. 

The bane of human thinking is found in vague, indistinct 
judgments. The causes of indistinct judgments are, (1) Imperfect 
perception, (2) Fading memory, (3) Imperfect conception, 
(4) Intrusion of feeling, and (5) Taking judgments at second- 
hand. 

Judgment enters into all the other activities of mind, being 
involved implicitly in perception and memory as well as imagina- 
tion and conception. Perception, conception, and judgment rise 
together by mental interaction. 



CHAPTER XXIII 

REASONING 

Reasoning. — In the preceding chapter, we observed that 
while some judgments are formed with apparent direct- 
ness, or immediacy, others are arrived at through a process 
of analysis and inference. This process of deriving new 
judgments from those previously accepted is called 
Eeasoning. 

As judgment involves a comparison of concepts, so 
reasoning involves a comparison or relating of judgments. 
It is thus, in point of complexity and elaboration, the 
highest of the mental processes. 

The unit of reasoning, the single process by which a 
new judgment is reached, is called an argument^ and the 
resulting judgment the conclusion. 

The Syllogism. — The simplest form of argument, so far 
as ease of explanation is concerned, is called the Syllogism. 
It comprises three judgments, the conclusion and two 
others called ^jremises, as. 

All explosives are dangerous. 
Dynamite is an explosive. 
Therefore, dynamite is dangerous. 

It will be noticed that this syllogism contains but three 
ideas, or concepts, which are called its terms. The one 
of these having the greatest extension is "dangerous," 
which is therefore called the major ter'm. The one hav- 
ing least extension is "dynamite," the minor ter?n. The 
other concept, "explosives," midway between the others 

150 



REASONING 151 

in point of breadth, or extension, is appropriately called 
the middle term. The premise containing the major term 
is called the major iiremise; the one containing the minor 
term, the minor prem,ise. It will be noted that the middle 
term appears in both premises, but not in the conclusion. 
It serves as a sort of yardstick, or standard, with which 
the major and minor terms are successively compared. 

While it may seem the natural order of propositions to 
state the major premise first and the conclusion last, this 
order of arrangement is not essential. The three propo- 
sitions may be stated in any order by varying the con- 
nective, thus, 

Methuselah is mortal 
Because Methuselah is a man, 
And all men are mortal. 

Indeed, in practice, it is common to first announce the 
conclusion as a proposition to be proved, or established. 
There are many forms or "modes" of the syllogism; but 
the consideration of these belongs to formal Logic. 

(Let the pupils he practiced here in the construction of 
syllogisms. ) 

Essential Characteristics of Deductive Reasoning. — The 
foundation of tho syllogistic argument lies in the major 
premise, which is always a broad, general judgment, or 
proposition. The minor premise may be either a general, 
a particular, or a singular judgment; but, in any case, it 
must be less general than the major premise. The same 
is true of the conclusion. It is thus said that syllogistic 
reasoning proceeds from the general to the particular; 
and this is its essential characteristic. As the conclusion 
is involved in the major premise, and is deduced, or drawn, 
from it by aid of the middle term, this mode of argument 
is also called Deductive Eeasoning. 



152 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

Tlie Dangers of Deductive Reasoning. — The conclusive- 
ness of deductive argument depends, in the first place, on 
the truth of the premises. True conclusions cannot be 
derJved from untrue premises. It depends, in the second 
place, on the correctness or legitimacy of the reasoning 
process. Logicians have developed many formal rules 
governing this process. Different forms of, or liabilities 
to, error arising from neglect of these rules are called 
fallacies. We can note here only one of these, "the 
fallacy of the undistributed middle," of which the follow- 
ing is the classic example : 

The wise are good. 

Some ignorant people are good. 

Therefore, some ignorant people are wise. 

This, as it stands, is a syllogism only in form; because 
the middle term, "good," is not distributed, or taken in 
a universal sense, it being one of the laws of the syllogism 
that the middle term must be thus taken in at least one of 
the premises. If we obey this, by placing the word "all" 
or "the only" before "good" in the major premise, the 
syllogism becomes a valid one, and its conclusion true if 
the premise is true. 

We have in the above also an illustration of the mischief 
of ambiguity in the use of terms. Thus the word "wise" 
may be taken in either of two senses, its true sense or 
that of learned. If the wise were only the learned, then 
the major premise would be untrue and the minor premise 
nonsense. Whereas, if "wise" be taken in its proper 
signification and the middle term be duly "distributed," 
we have a valid argument and a true conclusion. . Doubt- 
less half of all the failure among disputants to reach com- 
mon conclusions is due to ambiguity, or the use of the 
same terms in different senses, consciously or uncon- 
sciously. 



REASONING 



153 



Demonstrative Reasoning. — Mathematical reasoning, 
because of the absolute conclusiveness of its results, is 
also called Demonstrative Reasoning. It is wholly of the 
deductive type, proceeding "from the general to the par- 
ticular." This is best exemplified in geometrical reason- 
ing, which starts from broad generalizations, as definitions 
and axioms, and in its progress descends to narrower and 
narrower propositions or theorems. But even in the ear- 
liest and simplest theorems the demonstration involves the 
use of several syllogisms. Take, for example, the theorem : 

''If two straight lines intersect, the vertical angles are 
equal." 




Syllogism 



Syllogism 2\ 



Syllogism 3 



The conclusion to be reached is that La is equal to Lc. 

!L a is equal to Lc, because 
L a + L b is equal to L b -}- L c, and 
Equals from equals leave equals, 
f L a -|- Lb equals L b + L c, because 
Each equals two right angles, and 

Things equal to the same thing are equal to each 
[ other. 

TL a -{- L b and L b -f L c are each equal to two right 

angles, because 
I They each comprise all the angular magnitude on 
'] one side of a straight line, and 

I All the angular magnitude on one side of a 
l^ straight line equals two right angles. 

And yet a fourth syllogism is really necessary to estab- 
lish the proposition that all the angular magnitude on 
one side of a straight line is equal to two right angles. 

It will be remembered that in Geometry the "theorem" 
is always a conclusion, from which we work back to the 
premises supporting it. The natural order of the syl- 
logism is therefore reversed in the above examples. 



154 THE THEORY OP TEACHING 

Why Mathematical Reasoning is so Certain in its 
Results. — The question arises why mathematical reason- 
ing is more certain in its results than other forms of 
reasoning. The answer is found in the fact that its data 
are subjective, given by the mind and not sought for in 
the outer world. It starts from axioms, which are self- 
evident and absolute, and from definitions which are 
assumed at the outset, in an unchangeable form. The 
geometrician makes his own definitions in the beginning 
and then holds to them consistently. It is this fixed and 
absolutely definite character of the premises of mathe- 
matics which yields the certainty in its results. Other 
forms of deductive reasoning yield only relative certainty 
in the conclusions reached. 

The Major Premise May Not he Exjjressed. — The fact 
should be recognized that deductive reasoning, in ordinary 
use, does not always conform to the regular, typical forms 
of the syllogism. As already indicated, the order of propo- 
sitions maybe varied at will; audit often happens that the 
major premise is a judgment so well known and generally 
accepted as not to need formal statement. But all deduc- 
tive reasoning can be reduced, when made formal and 
explicit, to some of the modes of syllogism. 

INDUCTION 

How do toe Co?ne by General Judgments^ — As we have 
seen, deduction starts from universal judgments. The 
question arises. Whence come these general judgments? 
How does deductive reasoning come by its major prem- 
ises? How does any mind become competent to assert 
propositions of such breadth? The child is not thus 
qualified. From the limitations of his narrow experience 
he is restricted to the use of singular and particular judg- 
ments; he can affirm only concerning small fragments of 



REASONING 155 

the universe. Even when experience widens, his condi- 
tions remain approximately the same. How can a finite 
mind ever gain confidence to affirm universal truths? 
How can I declare that "all men are mortal," or that 
"all lemons are yellow," since I have had no experience 
of all the possibilities in either case? How can I feel sure 
that some future Stanley may not, in the Philippine 
Jungles or elsewhere, discover a blae species of lemon, or 
that Professor Loeb may not yet discover the elixir of 
youth? We come, here, to the recognition of a principle 
or tendency of the human mind to be convinced by 
limited, and often inadequate, evidence — the faith prin- 
ciple, in fact. Through the operation of this, we are 
able to reach general conclusions of widely varying 
breadth by a process known as Induction, or Inductive 
Reasoning. 

The Inductive Process. — The typical procedure in this 
form of argumentation may be illustrated by the following 
sample : 

This lemon is yellow. 
That lemon is yellow. 
Those lemons are yellow. 

All the lemons I ever saw were yellow. 
All the lemons I ever heard of were yellow. 

Therefore, all lemons are yellow. 

Here we begin with singular judgments, of indefinite 
number, and pass on to particular judgments, limited 
still by our own experience or that of others concerning 
which we have satisfactory testimony. But when we 
have accumulated all available experience and testimony, 
there is still a gap between that knowledge and univer- 
sality. By means of the faith principle already recog- 
nized, the mind leaps that gap and attains to at least a 



156 THE THEORY OF TEACHIN"G 

working belief in the general conclusion, '*A11 lemons 
are yellow. " Now in what is that faith reposed? The 
answer is, "In the uniformity of nature," which is more 
accurately stated in the formula, "Like causes produce 
like results." "Nature" is often guilty of "freaks," like 
two-headed calves ; nevertheless we continue to trust in 
her consistency. 

The Essential Characteristics of Induction, — The term 
induction has been used by logicians to denote this leap 
of the mind from the limitations of its positive knowledge 
to belief in universal laws. In pedagogy, however, the 
term is applied to the whole process of arriving at general 
truths, or principles. This process is, in fact, closely 
similar to that of conception — so similar, indeed, that 
some writers confound the two. 

Both processes begin with the consideration and com- 
parison of particulars or facts; of individuals in the one 
case, of singular and particular judgments in the other 
case. Both culminate in generalization, the one result 
being expressed in a general term, the other in a general 
proposition. 

The distinctive characteristic of inductive reasoning, 
then, is that it proceeds "from the particular to the gen- 
eral," from the narrow judgments of individual experi- 
ence to the broad ones which form the basis and the body 
of science, and furnish the premises of deductive 
reasoning. 

It must be recognized, moreover, that inductive reason- 
ing can never, like demonstrative reasoning, give absolute 
certainty in its conclusions; but it does yield ^;?or«/ cer- 
tainty, a degree of certainty which serves for the guid- 
ance of conduct in the affairs of life. 

Early Use of Inductive Reasoning. — The child, by force 
of his very nature and circumstances, employs inductive 



REASONiN(i 157 

reasoning; but as soon as experience and testimony have 
furnished him a small stock of general judgments, he 
begins to use them as premises for deductive conclusions. 
This, however, is an activity which ought not to be 
forced, and especially one which ought not to be simu- 
lated. To require young pupils to go through the forms 
of syllogistic reasoning without any clear comprehension 
of the terms contained in the premises is a stultifying 
process. 

The instinctive tendency of the mind to *'jump to con- 
clusions," to exercise the faith principle, is so great that 
much error and harm result from hasty induction^ the 
making of generalizations on insufficient foundation. 
The old adage, "One swallow doesn't make a summer," 
is directed against this mischievous practice. Children 
are naturally very much in danger of drawing hasty gen-, 
eral conclusions from their limited experience; they are 
naturally credulous, and need to be taught the attitude 
of caution in both thought and statement. 

Reasoning ly Analogy. — There is a third method of 
reasoning, known as Reasoning by Analogy. Like induc- 
tion, it starts from singular judgments, but, unlike 
induction, it ends also with singular judgments. It is 
therefore of much less value for either practical or scien- 
tific purposes. A good example of this form runs as 
follows : 

I The Earth is a planet; Mars is a planet. 
The Earth has land and water; Mars has land and water. 
The Earth has an atmosphere; Mars has an atmosphere. 
The Earth is inhabited; therefore Mars is probably inhabited. 

This argument, it will be observed, contains nothing 
but singular judgments, and reaches no certainty in its 
conclusions. Since Mars and Earth resemble each other 
in some particulars, it is more or less probable that they 



158 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

resemble each other in this other particular of being 
inhabited. No general judgment is reached. Eeasoning 
by analogy, thus, "proceeds from particulars to particu- 
lars," and should not be confused, as it sometimes is, 
with hasty induction, which always aims at general con- 
clusions. Take this example : A little child has, one day, 
been knocked over by a big but friendly dog and fright- 
ened. On a succeeding day, it sees another big dog and 
is frightened. It reasons, "That other big dog knocked 
me over; this big dog will probably knock me over." 
Whatever of reasoning is done by animals is undoubtedly 
of this same sort, from particular cases to like particular 
cases; though such reasoning would seem to be little 
more, after all, than simple association of ideas. 

Analogy also serves a useful purpose with scientific 
investigators by way of suggesting hypotheses, possible 
solutions of problems, which may be tested and verified 
or disproved by other methods. 

Relation of tlie Several Modes to the Progress of Knowl- 
edge. — A word may be said concerning the relation of the 
several modes of reasoning to the increase of knowledge 
in the individual and the race. It is doubtless clear to 
the reader already that, while reasoning by analogy has 
certain important preliminary and tentative uses in paving 
the way for other methods, the great instrument of prac- 
tical and scientific discovery is the inductive method. 
During the ages while this method was neglected by the 
learned, science made little progress. While the scholars 
of the world were content to spend their intellectual force 
in reasoning deductively from premises taken on unverified 
authority or tradition, with almost no question of their 
validity, scientific and philosophic results were precarious 
and illusive. Only with the recognition and predominance 
of the inductive method did real science become possible. 



REASOKIKG 159 

The question has been much discussed whether deduc- 
tive reasoning ever adds anything to the sum of knowl- 
edge. It is said that since it starts from general truths 
already established, it can bring forth no conclusions 
which are not already contained in the premises. This 
is, in a sense, true. But it is also true that we seldom 
realize at first the full force and application of general 
principles. It is the office of deductive reasoning to 
unfold the implications of general truths, or laws, and 
thus make them fruitful in the affairs of life. 

Summary. — Reasoning is the process of deriving new judgments 
by the comparison and relating of those previously accepted. 

That form of argument known as the syllogism comprises 
three judgments, two premises and the conclusion. It contains 
only three concepts, the major, minor, and middle terms. 

Syllogistic, or deductive, reasoning starts from broad, general 
judgments, called major premises, and descends to conclusions 
less general in scope; it proceeds from generals to particulars. 

The safety of deductive reasoning depends on the truth of the 
premises and the avoidance of ambiguity in the terms and of 
fallacies in the reasoning process. 

Demonstrative, or mathematical, reasoning is wholly of the 
deductive type, and is characterized by the certainty of its results. 
No other form of reasoning gives absolute certainty in its conclu- 
sions. 

The general judgments from which deductive reasoning starts 
are reached by a process known as inductive reasoning. Start- 
ing with particular judgments derived from experience and testi- 
mony, the mind, relying on the uniformity of nature, makes the 
leap to a general conclusion. 

Inductive reasoning thus proceeds from particulars to gen- 
erals. It is the method which must of necessity be used in early 
years. A danger to be avoided is that of hasty induction. 

Reasoning by analogy somewhat resembles inductive reason- 
ing. It proceeds from particulars to particulars, reaching no 
general conclusions. 

The inductive method of reasoning is the great instrument of 
scientific progress and the increase of knowledge. 



160 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

Deductive reasoning unfolds the content and implications of 
general rules and principles, thus making them practically valu- 
able. 

Deductive ( Demonstrative ) Gives absolute cer- 

(From generals to < (Mathematical) f tainty. 
particulars.) ( Probable — Gives relative certainty. 

Inductive ) 



Inductive 1 

(From particulars >■ Probable — Gives moral certainty, 
to generals.) ) 

By Analogy j 

(From particulars >• Possible — Gives more or less proba- 
to particulars.) ) bility. 



CHAPTER XXIV 



LANGUAGE 



What Language Is. — The final step in the process of 
conception we found to be that of Denomination, or the 
fitting of ideas with names. At this point, Psychology 
cpmes into contact with the problems of Language. 

What is language? When we attempt to define it we 
come at once upon the question of whether the term shall 
be held to include the expression of emotion as well as of 
thought. In the strictest sense, language consists of 
articulate sounds used as signs of ideas. In the widest 
sense, language is any means employed in the expression 
of thought or feeling. More or less confusion results 
from the ambiguous use of the term. It is well, there- 
fore, to recognize that there is a language of thought, 
confined in the first place to articulate words and after- 
wards represented by visible symbols, and also a language 
of feeling, employing primarily a variety of sounds and 
muscular movements of a more primitive and instinctive 
character than the signs of thought. 

Division of Language. — Taking language under its 

broadest and loosest definition, the following division, or 

classification, has been proposed, viz. : 

r ( Cries, laughter, sighing, etc. 

] Absolute \ Gestures — facial and otherwise. 



Lan- 
guage 



Natural 



1 



( Inflections. 



Artificial 



(^Conventional — Speech. 

!■ Painting, drawing, etc. 
Sculpture. 
Music. 

Writing, in all forms. 



Conventional 



161 



! Telegraphic alphabets. 
Deaf-mute alphabets. 
Signahngby lights, etc. 

Emblems 



S Religious, 
\ Masonic, etc. 



162 THE THEOKY OF TEACHING 

*' Artificial" is to be taken as meaning of human inven- 
tion, while "natural" means instinctive, arising naturally 
on due occasion. "Absolute" language is that which needs 
not to be taught or learned, but is universally intelli- 
gible. An American traveler without acquaintance with 
the languages of the countries through which he passed, 
remarked, self -consolingly, that wherever he went "the 
people all laughed in English." 

Conventional language is that used by common con- 
sent, this convention or usage varying with locality and 
race. An Englishman remarked, on returning from 
Paris, "How remarkable that the French call bread 
pain — very singular, you know." "But," was the 
answer, "why should they not call it jfj»«/yi as rightfully 
as we call it bread?" "Aw! because it is bread, you 
know." He could not realize that English was not an 
absolute instead of a conventional language. 

A little reflection will show that the "absolute" lan- 
guage of the foregoing classification is mainly, if not 
wholly, the language of emotion. Laughter, crying, 
gestures, and simple exclamations are all signs of feeling. 
Music, also, must be recognized as a language of feeling 
only, for it is in no sense an expression of intelligible 
thought. 

Tiie Language of Animals. — Here, also, we encounter 
the problem of the language of animals. Have animals 
any language in the strict sense of the term? We must 
concede at once that they have the language of feeling, 
natural signs by which they express their desires, ani- 
mosities, etc. The snarl of a vicious dog is a sample of 
absolute language, translatable by all concerned. The 
call of a bird to its mate is also an emotional sign, though 
less universal in its intelligibility. 

But the further question, "Have animals a language of 



LANGUAGE 163 

thought, a system of signs for communicating ideas?" is 
less easy of determination. Its answer involves an answer 
to the kindred question, "Can animals think?" and this, 
again, depends on our definition of tliinMng. We have 
taken thinking to involve the use of general notions as 
predicates. If we hold to this view, that thinking is im- 
possible without concepts, then we must say that animals 
do not think, and consequently have no language of ideas. 
If, on the other hand, we broaden the term thinking so as 
to include the procession of images under the laws of asso- 
ciation of ideas, we must undoubtedly allow that, iii that 
sense, some animals can think. If a dog guilty of robbing 
hens' nests be punished by whipping at the nest, or by 
breaking hot eggs in his mouth, he will fight shy of eggs 
and nests thereafter. The sight of either will suggest 
under the law of contiguity the pain of punishment and a 
restraining fear. But there is not the slightest reason to 
believe that he can communicate the image or the fear to 
another dog. 

The question whether animals lack language because 
they are unable to form general notions, or lack concepts 
because they have no words in which to embody them, is 
more interesting than answerable. 

Can We Think witlioiit Words? — Turning from animals 
to men, let us examine briefly the relation of words to 
ideas. Are words the mere vesture of thought, of which 
it may divest itself upon occasion? Can we think without 
words? The answer to this question will be found in the 
attempt. We adult persons, however much we try, cannot 
think except in words; but may that not be merely a 
result of habit? What is the case with deaf-mutes before 
they are taught any form of language, or with children 
before they learn to talk? This question has been elabo- 
rately argued on both sides. Max Mueller, the eminent 



164 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

philologist, contending with great insistence that lan- 
guage and thought are, in a sense, identical; that there 
can be no real thinking without some kind of words. Of 
course, he considers any symbol of an idea, as the manual 
signs used by deaf-mutes, to be a word. 

The writer of this inclines to a view which may be 
expressed in the figure that words are the sJcijis, not the 
garments, of ideas, and that ideas (concepts) are born 
with their skins on. Upon this all must agree, that if 
any thinking is possible without words, the amount of it 
is very small and the scope of it very limited. And it 
would also seem a safe judgment that nothing more than 
the recall of images, the so-called associational thinking, 
present also in the higher animals, is possible without 
words. In short, language, in the restricted sense of 
signs of ideas, is the distinctive characteristic which sep- 
arates man from the animals. The declaration, "I know, 
but I cannot tell," is thus seen to be without any validity. 
What the person saying it means is that he has some 
vague, undefined notion about the subject, but nothing 
that amounts to real knowledge. AVhat one truly knows, 
at the present time, he can tell. 

Specific Relations of Words to Ideas. — Following further 
this topic of the relations of words to ideas, we come into 
the field of Grammar, which classifies words according to 
the kinds of ideas which they represent, somewhat as 
follows : 

(1) Name-words, which are simple appellations, like 
tags or labels, used merely to designate. Some of these 
name classes and are called common nouns; others name 
single qualities and are called abstract nouns. What are 
called proper nouns are a distinct and peculiar class of 
words whose function is to represent individual notions. 
They are not a result of abstraction or generalization, 



LANGUAGE 165 

but derive their force and value solely from Associa- 
tion. 

(2) Words of assertion, copulative verbs, including also 
words which perform the double office of copula and 
predicate, the "complete verbs" of the grammar-books. 

(3) Limiting or qualifying words: (a) Those which limit 
name-words, adjectives; (b) Those which limit words of 
assertion, adverbs. 

(4) Eelation words, known as conjunctions and prepo- 
sitions, the latter being much more restricted as to the 
terms of the relation expressed. 

(5) Pronouns, a peculiar class of words, differing from 
nouns in being more highly generalized, as in the words 
they, it. They may be thought of as representing con- 
cepts in which abstraction is carried to its second power, 
to borrow a phrase from algebra. This characteristic of 
pronouns explains the well-known fact that children 
venture on their use later than on that of any other part 
of speech. The child long says, "Johnny wants a drink," 
before using the personal pronoun. 

The so-called interjections are hardly words at all. 
They are not signs of ideas, but only of emotion. They 
beloDg, apparently, to the "absolute" language of the 
outline given on page 161, whereas true words are "con- 
ventional." 

THE USES OE LANGUAGE 

The function of language is thus much more vital and 
profound than is realized in the common conception. 
Some further analysis of the subject, therefore, cannot 
fail to be of service to ail who practice the teacher's art. 

The Uses of Language are (1) To think ^?^, — it abbrevi- 
ates and facilitates the process of thought. Even if it be 
possible to think, in a limited way, without w/ rds, the 



166 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

process must be slow and ineffective without the service 
of words representing abstract and generalized ideas. 
Consider the abridging, condensing power of such words 
as million^ army^ animal^ origin^ etc. If one were 
obliged, by the slow process of ''associational thinking," 
to reproduce and pass in array all the ants which, one by 
one, "went to the granary and brought out another grain 
of corn" in the endless tale of the condemned Oriental 
wife, or to image each individual soldier of an army 
before issuing a command, he would indeed realize that 
*'art is long and time is fleeting." It is, in fact, the 
process of conception which, by its compacting power, 
makes thought practicable; and language is but the 
completion of that process. 

(2) It records the results of thinking; it stores up dis- 
tinctions^ comparisons^ generalizations^ etc. This state- 
ment relates not only to written language but primarily 
to spoken language. Every new idea which reaches 
completion and definition through the spoken word 
becomes thereby a part of the intellectual possessions of 
the race. To illustrate the storing of distinctions, let us 
suppose the word st^^ike to have meant originally, in the 
primitive development of mankind, to toiicli with any 
degree of force. As men began to discriminate between 
such acts as striking with the fist, the flat hand, the foot, 
the head, etc., each would demand a separate act of 
denomination, and the words knocks c?/:^, slap^ kick, 
hunt, snap, nudge, punch, etc., would come into being 
as marking and fixing new powers and habits of think- 
ing. 

The storing of comparisons, which are the complement 
of distinctions, is seen in the multitude of words which 
are wholly relative in their force and application, such as 
high, low, long, short, heavy, light, old, young, hard, soft. 



LANGUAGE 167 

and so on, ad libitum. A dog is large as compared with 
a flea, but small as compared with an elephant. A street 
is long as compared with one's single stride, but short as 
compared with the equator. Again, all similes and meta- 
phors are simply comparisons expressed or implied ; and 
thus every figurative use of a word embodies a compar- 
ison, as when we call one a hlockhead^ a hard citizen, a 
slippenj customer, or a square man. Poetry has for its 
chief staple the embodiment in words of subtle and, to 
most people, unnoted resemblances. 

(3) It enables us to analyze complex impressions. Iq 
the perceiving of objects we take in the whole impression, 
though it is always more or less complex. One, for 
instance, sees the Group of Laocoon as a whole, which is, 
of course, made more definite by attention to each of its 
details ; but this experience cannot be reported to another 
as a whole. It must be analyzed and handed over to the 
listener item by item; even more so in the case of a 
witnessed action, or event, as a burning house or a street 
fight. Any piece of description will illustrate this neces- 
sity under which the narrator analyzes the scene word by 
word, while the listener, beginning with a vague or frag- 
mentary image, modifies or completes that image step by 
step, as each successive word or phrase falls from the lips 
of the speaker. Turning from a window where I have 
had an instantaneous view, I may say to those within, 
"A big black dog jumped over the fence and caught a cat 
by the neck." Note the necessity which I am under of 
breaking this simple event up into elements represented 
by single words, the listeners, each and all, being under a 
similar necessity of synthesizing, pari passu, that which I 
have analyzed. For a more interesting example take the 
opening stanza of Gray's Elegy and trace the gradual 
synthesis of the picture by the reader. 



X68 THE THEORY OF TEACHINa 

" The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, 
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, 
The plowman homeward plods his weary way, 
And leaves the world to darkness and to me." 

Or this other : 

" Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, 
And all the air a solemn stillness holds, 
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, 
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds." 

(4) Lastly, Language is the means of communication. 
It serves this end because it serves the other ends which 
have been discussed. But it is important that we dis- 
cover just what we mean by communication. It is 
impossible to transfer or convey thought from one mind 
to another. Thinking is individual and subjective; I can 
think my own thoughts and. no others. That which is 
conveyed cannot at the same time be kept by the con- 
veyor. But to communicate is to make common. The 
^'communication" of ideas is possible only through the 
reciprocal process of analysis- and synthesis described in 
the last paragraph, and the storing-up process discussed 
in the paragraph next preceding. Yet the ordinary mind 
thinks of communication as the only function of lan- 
guage, and altogether overlooks its more fundamental 
uses. 

LIMITATIONS OF LANGUAGE 

Language has its limitations as well as its uses. "We 
face one of these in the question, Hoiu far is it possible 
to communicate ideas through languagef (1) One condi- 
tion is to be found in an established association between 
the word and the idea. Words in an unknown tongue 
communicate nothing to me, because they have no sug- 
gestive power ; I have no association established between 
them and the ideas which they embody. The word man- 
ana may signify nothing to me although the idea is per- 



LANGUAGE 169 

fectly familiar, because I have associated that idea only 
with the word to-morrow. 

(2) But there is yet a more fundamental difficulty in 
the way of unlimited communication. I can by no means 
excite in the mind of a child the idea of dynamogenesis 
or metabolism^ because the child's mental experience 
does not yet furnish the materials out of which to elabo- 
rate such ideas. We can communicate ideas only so far 
as the raiu materials already exist in the mind of the 
learner. If I place before a child the word sporran^ it 
may mean nothing to him, not merely through lack of 
association but because he has never yet formed that idea. 
Let me now proceed to explain to him that a sporran is a 
pocket, made of fur, suspended from the belt, and 
forming part of the apparel of a Scotch Highlander, and 
the idea gradually arises in his mind. The data for its 
construction are already in his possession. -He follows 
my analysis with his own synthesis, and the idea becomes 
common to us. It must be clearly understood, however, 
that we have not the same image or idea. The listener 
has his idea and I have mine ; they are similar but never 
identical, nor even exact duplicates. No two persons 
ever have exactly the same idea of the same thing. And 
we can put nothing absolutely new into the mind of 
another. As Dr. Carpenter puts it, '' Language is an 
appeal to the ideatiofial consciousness of another.'*^ If that 
other has not at his command the needful images, which 
I can call up by this appeal, then I must resort to presen- 
tation and cause him to get through sense-perception, in 
some way, the necessary raw materials for constructing 
those images. 

Further Limitations of Language.— lAm\i2ii\on^ of a 
different sort are found m the dangers attending the use 
of language. 



170 THE THEORY OF TEACHIHG 

(1) First comes the danger which besets all instructors, 
the danger that ive shall deceive ourselves as to hoiv well ive 
are understood. The erudite man attempting to talk 
improvingly to the children in a Sunday-school furnishes 
a typical example. The college graduate teaching a 
primary grade is liable to the same pitfalls. The pro- 
fessor lecturing on chemistry to a class of colored youth at 
Hampton who was sure that they understood him 
^'because they' looked so intelligent/' was nevertheless 
the victim of appearances. The teacher is under the 
constant necessity of rightly measuring the actual con- 
sciousness and inner experience of those whom he attempts 
to instruct, for he cannot make bricks without straw. 

(2) Even more serious and more universal is the pupil's 
danger, the danger that coords may lecome substitutes for 
ideas. Words, so far from communicating ideas, may 
actually displace them. The most familiar example is 
found in the "parroting," or learning without compre- 
hension, of definitions. Perhaps the danger of this is 
greater with beginners in the study of grammar than 
anywhere else. The head of a great school once declared 
in the presence of the writer that as a boy he memorized 
the whole grammar-book, so that he could start in any- 
where and recite the text till stopped, and yet understood 
practically nothing of what it all signified. Most of us 
have had a similar experience on a smaller scale. The 
fact that three teachers out of four, in the sentence, "I 
saw twenty Indians yesterday," would pronounce Indians 
to be a proper noun, is a pertinent illustration of the 
danger in question, IIow many of the children, or 
adults either, who can glibly recite, 

" Tell me not in mournful numbers 
Life is but an empty dream," 
have a clear or true conception of what is meant by 



LAN^GUAGE 171 

^'mournful numbers"? The evil does not lie so much in 
knowing the sound and sight of words not understood as 
in resting satisfied with the empty form of the word. 
Such an empty form is not truly a word to the person 
who uses it, and he deceives himself by supposing that it 
has some value. 

It is not an evil thing for a child to memorize *'Thana- 
topsis" before his experience enables him to fully compre- 
heud its force. lie will get at least some part of its 
significance, and, in time, will fill up the words with 
meaning. And he is not likely to imagine that the words 
have value farther than they are understood. Neverthe- 
less, it should be the constant aim of teachers to prevent 
the formation by children of the habit of resting content 
with *' words, mere words. '^ 

Accuracy in Choice of Words. — Certain habits in the 
use of language are of such importance to the mental life 
that no teacher can he pardoned for indifference or negli- 
gence with reference to their instillation. 

(1) It is not enough that every word should stand for 
some definite idea, but this should be the correct idea. 
Accuracy should be the aim not simply in orthography 
and pronunciation, but still more in meaning. Precision 
in the choice of words marks the truly cultured person. 
A loose, slovenly choice of prepositions, for instance, gives 
sure indication of the half-trained intellect, while the 
inane overworking of a few adjectives, like awful^ siveet, 
and lovely, in scorn of all the rich resources of the mother 
tongue, reveals either the possession of a poverty-stricken 
vocabulary or a lackadaisical indolence that would be 
pitiable if it were not so culpable. Pupils, in school, 
should be thoroughly indoctrinated with the idea that 
no two words mean exactly the same thing, that every 
word has its own delicate shades of meaning, and that 



172 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

exactness of thinking demands exactness in the choice of 
words. 

(2) The English language is peculiar in point of its 
elasticity. Of a large share of its words, it is true that 
each has several shades of meaning, or even several radi- 
cally different meanings. For example, let any one 
thread out carefully all the meanings of the familiar 
words fast^ sound, or well. Our discussion of the term 
theory, in Chapter I, furnishes a case in point. The 
reader, therefore, and especially the listener, must always 
be on the alert lest ho be side-tracked or baffled by calling 
up a different meaning from that intended by the speaker 
or writer. To begin with, then, a clear sense of the varied 
and possiUe meanings of luords is essential to the really 
intelligent person. 

(3) Putting One^s Thought in Various Forms. — A third 
language habit of great importance to the teacher of any 
grade is that of being able to put one's thought in a 
variety of ways, or forms. This is always possible, by 
reason of the great richness of the English language, 
derived as it is from so many contributory sources, Saxon, 
Latin, Greek, etc., and thus so rich in synonyms. This 
wealth of synonyms affords not only the means of agree- 
able variety in expression, but also permits a division of 
labor among words, a differentiation in shades of meaning 
between so-called synonyms which gives the language 
great flexibility and power of precise expression. In 
short, the English language is a grand language to think 
in, if one will only take the pains necessary to become 
familiar with its resources and possibilities. And, to the 
teacher, the ability to illuminate a dark saying by trans- 
lating it with approximate accuracy into a different and 
more familiar form of words is a resource of the greatest 
value. 



LAITGUAGE 173 

Summary. — Language, in the widest sense, is any means em- 
ployed in the expression of thought or feehng. 

The language of feeling is absolute, or universally intelligible; 
the language of thought is conventional. 

The language of feeling is common to the higher animals, but 
they have no language of thought, for the reason that they have 
no general notions, or concepts. 

Words are the vital investment of ideas, and are classified 
according to the kinds of ideas that they represent. 

The uses of language are (1) To think in; it abbreviates and 
facilitates thinking. 

(2) It records the results of thinking. 

(3) It enables us to analyze complex impressions, and thus 
becomes 

(4) The means of communication. 

Language has also its limitations: (1) There must be an estab- 
lished association between the particular form of word and its 
idea. 

(2) We can communicate ideas by language only so far as the 
raw materials already exist in the mind of the hearer. 

(3) There is danger lest we deceive ourselves as to how well 
we are understood. 

(4) There is great danger that words may become substitutes 
for ideas. 

There are certain habits of great importance in the use of lan- 
guage: (1) Precision in the choice of words, accuracy in their 
application 

(2) A clear sense of the varied and possible meanings of words. 

(3) The ability to put one's thought in a variety of ways, or 
forms 



CHAPTER XXV 

ANALYSIS AND SYNTHESIS 

Pedagogical literature has been especially marked by a 
loose and confusing use of the word analysis. It seems 
wise, therefore, to take some pains to clear up the proper 
application of the term. And we may begin in a negative 
way. Analysis is not mere mechanical separation. The 
housewife cutting a pie in segments for the table is not 
engaged in an act of analysis. Neither is the man who 
carves a turkey, except as he emphasizes the distinction 
between "brown" meat and "white" meat. The boy who 
takes a clock apart out of pure desire to busy himself is 
not analyzing it; for the act of analysis has not neces- 
sarily any connection with taking in pieces. 

Analysis, in a broad sense, is the reduction of a com- 
pound or organism to its elementary constituent forms or 
substances. In chemistry, the term is applied to the 
actual separation of elements; in botany, it means only 
the mental inspection and identification of parts accord- 
ing to their functions. In grammar, whether sentential 
or etymological, it means the same; subject, predicate, and 
modifiers, prefix, suffix, and root, are parts having special 
functions. But there is also an analysis which consists 
only in a mental separation of qualities. When we think 
out the specific qualities of an apple, for instance, observ- 
ing that it is round, smooth, red, hard or mellow, sour, 
crisp or otherwise, we are analyzing the apple in a true 
sense. Suppose one attempts to analyze a mince-pie ; he 

174 



ANALYSIS AND SYNTHESIS 175 

will not accomplish that undertaking by separating the 
raisins into one pile, the crust into another, and so on, 
even if it were possible to dissociate the various con- 
stituents which culinary art has combined. The cook, it 
is true, performs a synthesis, but that is not in the mere 
mechanical compounding. Each constituent is used to 
produce a given result, to give the pie certain qualities, 
and thus has a specific function. So he who separates 
these qualities or functions, in his mind, by thinking of 
the sweetening, the shortening, the spicing, the souring, 
etc., of the compound, performs an act of analysis. We, 
therefore, define analysis as the me?ital separation of 
qualities^ or of }) arts according to function. And empha- 
sis is to be laid on the fact that it is mental and not 
mechanical ; it always has relation to meaning, or signifi- 
cance. 

We Analyze Individuals^ Not Classes. — This brings us 
to observe that analysis pertains to individuals and not 
to concepts or classes. When we mentally separate a 
genus into its species, that is not analysis but logical 
division. If it were not for creating confusion by further 
increasing the applications of the term "analysis," we 
might perhaps call division analysis of extension. 
Analysis proper is analysis of intension. But in analyzing 
a particular object we may mentall}'' separate all its quali- 
ties, or simply those which constitute it a member of its 
species. Thus what we call abstraction is only a form of 
analysis; or, rather, it is -a, partial analysis, effected for a 
special purpose, the formation of either class concepts or 
abstract notions. 

Analysis and Synthesis. — Analysis is a necessary step 
in the apprehension of anything, even in the simplest act 
of perception. I do not recognize a tree, for instance, 
except by putting temporary mental emphasis on certain 



176 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

of its qualities and organs. But we never analyze for the 
mere sake of analysis ; it is always as a means to a new 
synthesis, a more perfect combination of qualities or 
parts. And synthesis, when the term is rightly used, 
does not mean a mere putting together mechanically. 
The piling up of stones in a heap is not synthesis; 
though the combining of properly fashioned stones to 
form a complex structure, as in the arches of a bridge, 
would properly be so called. Each stone has then its 
definite office, or function. The relation of these terms 
to pedagogy will be more fully considered in a later 
chapter. 

But we should keep the fact clearly in mind that anal- 
ysis and synthesis always "hunt in couples"; with which- 
ever one we begin, the other will soon follow. We 
analyze that we may classify; but all classification is 
synthesis. What we call abstraction is only a form of 
analysis; and abstraction is preliminary to generalization, 
which, again, is synthetic. 

Analysis a Form of Discrimination. — In order to a full 
comprehension of the nature of analysis, we must recog- 
nize that it is only one form or stage of discrimination. 
We have already said, in Chapter IV, that discrimination 
and assimilation are the fundamental operations of the 
intellect. They enter into the simplest act of perception; 
they are the basis of all conception and all judgment; 
their highest development is found in the processes of 
induction and deduction. Inductive reasoning is analy- 
tic, deductive reasoning is synthetic. Analysis is only a 
somewhat formal or elaborate process of discrimination; 
or, if we turn the matter about, discrimination is only a 
limited, or imj^licit, form of analysis. And assimilation 
is only a form of synthesis, combining in thought those 
elements of experience which resemble each other in some 



ANALYSIS AKD SYNTHESIS 177 

way. Throughout the whole range of thought, therefore, 
the processes of analysis and synthesis are indispensable. 
And the two processes imply, or presuppose, each other. 

Summary. — A loose and ambiguous use of the term analysis 
has caused much confusion in pedagogical discussion. 

Analysis is not mere separation, but is the reduction of a com- 
pound or organism to its elementary forms or substances. It is 
the mental separation of qualities, or of parts according to func- 
tion. 

We analyze individuals, not classes. The separation of a genus 
into its species is not analysis, but logical division. 

Analysis and synthesis always go together; the mind alternates 
between these processes. Analysis is made for the sake of a new 
synthesis. 



CHAPTER XXVI 

GENERAL METHOD 

What Method Is. — The term method., like theory and 
analysis^ has suffered from great looseness and ambiguity 
in its current use. Like the word theory^ its original 
application was very broad; etymologically, it means 
simply a way of proceeding or doing things. In the 
development of logical and pedagogical thought, how- 
ever, it has been more closely restricted in meaning. 
Strictly defined, in its scientific use, Method is systematic 
procedure according to principles. It implies a goal, or 
end, and the right, natural, and most economical way of 
reaching the chosen end. Such procedure, according to 
principles, cannot be haphazard, variable, or colored by 
individual idiosyncrasies. The laws, or principles, which 
govern method are not found in personal habit or caprice, 
but in the nature of things, the nature of the mind itself. 
Methods are discovered^ not invented. They are few and 
not many. 

Method and Manner: Special Methods. — It is impor- 
tant, therefore, to distinguish between method and ma?iner. 
Women, for instance, differ widely in ways of dressing 
their hair. They may affect curls, "bangs," braids, or 
more elaborate coiffures. In this diversity, they may, 
from time to time, follow the fashion set in high 
quarters, or they may, more independently, follow the 
bent of personal taste and preference; but in neither 
case can the term method be properly applied, What- 

178 



GENERAL METHOD 179 

ever does not result from fixed laws, bat only illustrates 
individual tastes and peculiarities, is rather to be desig- 
nated as manner, even though it may be, through imita- 
tion, a collective manner. Again, there may be many 
special contrivances or arrangements, devised in harmony 
with, and application of, the fundamental principles of 
method for facilitating the attainment of special ends. 
These may, indeed, be invented, and are appropriately 
termed devices or sjjecial methods. Speaking more care- 
fully, a Special Method is an elaboration, with helpful 
devices, of the application of Method to a particular 
branch of study. The working out of judicious and 
effective special methods and devices is an important 
matter practically; but these must always be in con- 
formity with the general laws of mental acquisition. 
Failure to realize this or to apprehend the true principles 
of general method has often resulted in great waste of 
time and opportunity on catchy and "easy" devices, like 
the "diagraming" of sentences iu the study of gram- 
mar, or elaborate schemes of triangulation in map- 
drawing. 

THE INDUCTIVE METHOD 

Otie Method of Learning. — It was said above that 
methods, in the strict sense, are few. Let us now put 
that statement to the test. Suppose that oue wishes to 
know all about any class of objects, as grasshoppers; how 
may he go about such acquisition? Manifestly, one 
effective way will be to go where grasshoiopers are^ to 
bring our senses to bear upon them in close and extensive 
observation. But when we begin this process, what shall 
we find ourselves doing? First of all, of course, will come 
comparison of instances, specimens; but this comparison 
cannot proceed a single step without i\\Q ^\ii oi abstrae- 



180 THE THEORY OF TEACHIl^G 

tion^ which, as was stated in the last chapter, is only a 
form or phase of analysis. Now this analysis, or abstrac- 
tion, will first attack the most general and at the same 
time obvious qualities of the specimens compared. We 
shall first note the color, size, and general form, and dis- 
cover their limits of variation. This will qualify us to 
take the next step, the making of judgments, or predica- 
tions, concerning the individuals observed. When the 
observation has become wide enough, by cooperation or 
otherwise, the leap to the universal, known as induction^ 
may be taken, and affirmations as to color, size, etc., may 
be made of all grasshoppers. 

But long before reaching this stage of generalization, 
which, by the way, is a synthetic step, our analysis will 
have gone beyond the qualities indicated and have entered 
upon the observation of organs, or parts having special 
functions. We shall first observe the general division of 
the insect into three parts, head, thorax, and abdomen. 
These, in turn, may be compared and generalized as to 
their color, form, etc. After which they will, succes- 
sively, be analyzed into their parts according to functions, 
as the various head-parts — antennae, eyes, mouth-parts, 
etc. 

But however far these processes of comparison and 
abstraction may be carried, the desired result in knowl- 
edge can only be attained by the crowning process of 
synthesis, a bringing together of all the observed facts 
under general statements or laws which are true of the 
whole type known as grasshopper. And these general- 
izations, when firmly established, constitute science. 

The Naming of this Method. — This method of intel- 
lectual mastery has been variously named, according as 
separate steps of the process are given prominence. 
Because it begins with actual objects, or individual 



GEN^ERAL METHOD 181 

instances, whether material or immaterial, it has been 
called the Objective Method. This name emphasizes the 
initial steps of the process. 

Because it necessitates abstraction or analysis, it has 
been properly called the Analytic Method; though certain 
writers, like Dr. E. E. White, through confusion as to 
the real nature of analysis, have unfortunately termed it 
the Synthetic Method, a mischievous error which should 
be carefully and discriminatingly avoided. 

Because this method begins with individuals and, 
through analysis and synthesis, arrives at general propo- 
sitions, it has naturally been entitled the Inductive 
Method. We might accurately enough combine all these 
names in the compound title, The Objective-Analytic- 
Inductive Method. But since the objective character is 
only initiatory, and the term "analytic" is subject to the 
confusion already pointed out, the name Inductive 
Method seems the most convenient and also the most 
accurate, inasmuch as the term "inductive" covers the 
whole process from beginning to end. The method "pro- 
ceeds from the particular to the general." 

It has also been called the Method of Discovery, because 
it is the method by which scientific knowledge must first 
advance, the method by which all the natural sciences 
have been built up from empirical knowledge of mere 
facts into systematic general knowledge of laws and 
principles. 

THE DEDUCTIVE METHOD 

Another Metliod of Learning. — Returning to our orig- 
inal endeavor, is there any other procedure by which we 
may learn all about grasshoppers? 

Instead of taking to the fields in quest of specimens, 
let us resort to the library. There we shall find books on 



182 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

Natural History and Zoology. Let us select, for 
instance, Tenney's Zoology, a text-book of high repute in 
years not long past. Beginning its study, we encounter 
first a definition of Zoology as a whole, and of the term 
''Animal Kingdom." Next follows a division of animals 
into Branches, or Types, as vertebrates, radiates, etc., 
followed by definitions of each. When these definitions 
have been duly amplified, each of the Branches is again 
divided into Orders, and so on. Thus the work proceeds 
by alternating definition and division, until, after four or 
five hundred pages have been turned, we come to a few 
condensed pages on grasshoppers and their species. And 
it still remains for us to find actual specimens and apply 
to them the abstract definitions of the book to see what 
we have found. 

The same general mode of procedure will be found in 
most text-books in all subjects. In Grammar they begin 
with the definition of language, or of grammar, divide it 
into Orthography, Etymology, Syntax, and Prosody, and 
continue to define and divide through all the parts of 
speech and their subdivisions. They also formulate gen- 
eral rules for the composition of words in actual use. The 
Geographies of a day not very far remote began with the 
consideration of the earth as a member of the solar 
system, and the first chapters were devoted to Mathemat- 
ical Geography, the most difficult and abstract part of 
the whole subject, whereas inductive study of geography 
begins with the home landscape. 

Names of this Method. — A very brief inspection reveals 
the fact that this method of procedure is, in a sense, the 
exact opposite of the Inductive Method. It begins with 
definitions, the broadest generalizations possible in any 
subject, and narrows down by logical division towards the 
concrete, individual facts. Its chief labor consists not in 



GEKERAL METHOD 183 

the discovery and establishment of general judgments, but 
in the assumption of these and the application of them to 
particular cases. The method starts not with concrete, 
objective facts, but with logical abstractions, creations of 
the human mind itself; it may therefore be called a Sub- 
jective Method. 

It docs not resort to analysis, but endeavors to put 
specific cases under general laws. For this reason, that it 
puts individuals together under the law of the species, and 
species together under the genus, it has been called the 
Synthetic Method. 

Because it, after the manner of syllogistic reasoning, 
proceeds from the general to the particular, it is rightly 
named the Deductive Method. Combining these names 
as before, we may call it the Subjective-Synthetic-Deduct- 
ive Method of presentation. 

It has also been called the Method of Instruction, or 
more fitly the Method of Doctrine, from its common use 
in presenting systematically the gathered up results of 
scientific investigation and generalization in compact 
form. It has been well said that by following this method 
of presentation in school studies we require the pupil to 
begin where the scientist and philosopher leave off. 

The Complete Metliod. — But no science completes itself 
by the inductive method alone. As fast as its great gen- 
eralizations are reached, it turns them to account by their 
deductive application, and by tracing out all the practical 
implications of the laws inductively established. Thus it 
happens that later, or more advanced, parts and stages of 
any science become more and more deductive, as is well 
illustrated in the case of Physics. The same truth holds 
with reference to the smaller divisions of human knowl- 
edge, the sub-topics, so to speak, of science. We shall 
not be successful in our attempt to learn all about grass- 



184 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

hoppers by the inductive method. We must also make 
what is called, in the pedagogics of the day, "the return 
from the general to the particular." When definitions 
have been reached by induction, they must then be care- 
fully and strictly applied. This supplementing of the 
inductive procedure by the deductive, the combination of 
the two methods, has been called the Complete Method. 

It has been common in the pedagogical literature of the 
past generation to name a multiplicity of methods of pres- 
entation, through failure to see that there really can 
be but two, the procedure from the concrete and indi- 
vidual to the abstract and universal, and its reverse. 
Thus we find mention of the Analytic, the Objective, the 
Inductive, and the "Developing Method" as distinct 
methods, in apparent obliviousness of the fact that they 
are really only different aspects, at most, of the same 
general procedure. No harm will result from the inter- 
changeable use of these terms if only their common 
nature is clearly recognized. The so-called Complete, or 
Inductive-Deductive, Method is, of course, not a distinct 
method. It might, indeed, be thought of as combining 
the two general methods in one. 

Further Illustration of the Two General Methods. — A 
clear apprehension by the reader of these two methods in 
practical application doubtless demands further illustra- 
tion. Take, for instance, the special methods of teaching 
beginners to read, viz., the Alphabet Method, Phonic 
Method, Word Method, and Sentence Method; are they 
respectively inductive or deductive? Let us put them to 
the test. The concrete unit in reading is clearly the par- 
ticular, individual thought, expressed in a sentence. If 
we start with this, the child must analyze it into its com- 
ponent words. The words, in turn, may be analyzed into 
their constituent sounds. The process is analytic; the 



GEKEEAL METHOD 185 

method is the inductive. There is the same general 
movement of mind in the word method, which starts with 
the A\ord or idea as a significant unit. 

On the other hand, letters are abstract; thej are highly 
generalized symbols, and have no concrete significance, 
or content. They only represent elementary sounds, and 
these sounds have no individual significance. Both 
letters and sounds must be synthesized into words before 
any significance emerges ; and words must still be com- 
bined into sentences before we have any reading. The 
alphabet and phonic methods are, therefore, synthetic, 
deductive. 

Again, in Geography, what would constitute an induct- 
ive or a deductive study of a city, as St. Louis? The 
boy who grows up in the city begins, of course, with the 
particular, concrete parts, or elements. He goes where 
they are; he employs his senses upon them, analyzes 
them. He analyzes the whole city in course of time, and 
at last, if he prosecutes his study far enough, he forms in 
mind a map, a general plan, of the city, its residence 
districts, its manufacturing districts, its transportation 
facilities, etc. He has analyzed the great organism into 
parts according to function, and has again brought these 
together in a comprehensive synthesis. He now knows 
the city as an aggregate. But the non-resident adult, 
going to the city for the World's Fair, will, before leaving 
home, procure a map and guide-book and study them to 
get the general plan and character of the city and fair- 
grounds, and will apply this general scheme to the par- 
ticular facts and details when he comes in contact with 
them. This will be an example of the synthetic, deduct- 
ive method of learning. 

In the study of the mother-tongue, the young child 
begins with concrete details and makes all his advances 



18G THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

by observation and experiment. He gets at the meaning 
of the words he hears by a succession of hypotheses, or 
tentative interpretations, which he revises and corrects by 
the aid of growing experience. He arrives at the rules of 
grammar and composition slowly and inductively, during 
the early years. When he comes to the study of formal 
grammar, this process is reversed, and he now begins to 
work backwards from definitions and rules to their appli- 
cation in practice. And fortunate is he if intelligent 
application is insisted on and secured, without allowing 
words to become substitutes for ideas. In the study of 
foreign languages, the deductive method starts with 
grammar and dictionary; the inductive, or "natural," 
method begins with conversation and the naming of 
objects after the manner of childhood. Which of these 
is the more fruitful method depends upon circumstances 
and upon the practical ends in view. 

The Place of Inductive Method. — The truth hardly 
needs further emphasis that the inductive method is 
necessarily the true and only successful method for the 
early stages of learning. The child's progress in knowl- 
edge before he is sent to school is greater and more 
important than we commonly realize; and it is all 
attained to through objective experience. The child 
tumbles on the doorstep, falls on the ice or into the 
water, touches his hand to the stove, falls out of the 
apple tree, or cuts himself on broken glass, and so learns 
the properties of matter — studies elementary physics, in 
short; though he does not formulate the law of gravita- 
tion, or any other, till a later period. As years advance 
and experience widens and he acquires the means and 
power of deductive reasoning, the deductive method of 
learning and teaching becomes more and more feasible 
and profitable. But the time never arrives when he can 



GENERAL METHOD 187 

dispense altogether with inductive study. The primary, 
fundamental ideas in any branch of study, unless it be 
mathematics, must be acquired objectively in all grades of 
school. It is for this reason that our universities are pro- 
viding such elaborate and expensive equipment for labora- 
tory work and the experimental method of study and 
investigation. 

Advantages of the Inductive Method. — While the induct- 
ive method of teaching is now being urged upon educators 
everywhere as the natural and necessary mode of acquisi- 
tion, it is nevertheless true that it has, along with its 
great advantages, certain important limitations. Its 
recognized advantages are: 

(1) It insures a clear ap2)rehension of the knowledge 
acquired; it results in real knowledge. *' Seeing is believ- 
ing" is a familiar adage ; it gives the feeling of reality. 
And, in like manner, the knowing which is based on con- 
crete experience is a secure and usable possession. 

(2) It secures an active state of mind on the part of the 
learner. The learner is not merely a recipient of second- 
hand judgments and a slave to authority. If not an 
originator of knowledge, his mind is at least in a state of 
active cooperation with that of the teacher. 

Limitations of the Inductive Method. — The limitations 
of the inductive method are partly logical ' and partly 
practical. 

(1) 8ome studies are deductive in their nature., especially 
mathematics. Geometry, for example, starts with axioms 
and conventional definitions. Its first theorems are of 
the broadest and most general character. Out of these 
are unfolded, step by step, narrower and narrower propo- 
sitions depending for their validity on the broader ones 
from which they are derived. The whole process of 
thought is deductive, as was illustrated in Chapter XXIII. 



188 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

History, again, is not to us a matter of experience, it 
must be taken principally on human authority. Archae- 
ology, the study of ancient ruins and relics, may indeed 
be studied by the objective, inductive method; but its 
scope is limited, and its results do not constitute history 
proper. Any attempt to study history by this method 
only results in a sort of quasi-mduciion. 

(2) Among practical difficulties, the first to be noted is 
that this form of instruction costs so much, in the way of 
apparatus and equipment. The apparatus required for 
primary teaching, where the method is most needed, is 
simple and inexpensive. But as education progresses 
upward the necessary equipment becomes more and more 
elaborate and costly. The cost of the cabinets and labo- 
ratory outfits demanded by a modern university reaches 
into the millions. 

(3) A further objection is that the method is slow, 
takes so much time. Obse^'vation and analysis are always 
slow processes. The basing of knowledge on observed 
fact does take time; and if the generalizations of science, 
the laws and principles of the universe, could be truly 
learned and mentally assimilated by taking them at 
second-hand in their perfected scientific forms, the de- 
ductive method would truly be more expeditious. And, 
doubtless, it is not necessary that the pupils should redis- 
cover the established principles of science; that process 
would consume too much time. 

(4) Another hindrance to the more general use of the 
inductive method in elementary schools arises from the 
fact that it makes such great demand on the teacher in 
the way of both general and special preparation for his 
work. With the deductive method, most of the work of 
instruction, the planning and formulation of the work, 
has been done by the author of the text-book; the 



GENERAL METHOD 189 

teacher is often little more than the hearer of lessons. 
The teacher using the inductive method, on the other 
hand, must not only know his subjects, but must exercise 
wisdom and good judgment in laying out the work and 
planning lessons, and be skillful in presentation. He 
must know how to direct the pupil's energies to avoid 
*'scatteration" and waste of time. This means that he 
must have an adequate professional training and make a 
daily preparation for his work such as is not expected from 
the text-book teacher. But such teachers cost money. 
They cannot afford to teach for the wages which unskilled 
teachers are willing to take ; and tax-payers are not gen- 
erally partial to high-priced teachers. It thus happens 
that motives of parsimony or false economy present the 
greatest obstacle to the more general use of really scien- 
tific methods of teaching. 

(5) Yet another criticism made upon the inductive 
method is that it does not sufficiently train in the use of 
books. When the pupil leaves school and teachers, his 
education is only begun ; and lie must prosecute it further 
principally by the use of books. And it is urged that 
inductive teaching, dealing largely with objects at first- 
hand and relying little on books — since the teacher's work 
will be chiefly oral in form — does not train pupils to the 
effective use of books, does not teach them how t'^ get out 
of books what is in them. There is some force in this 
view; but the difficulty is not an insurmountable one. 
It is certainly important that pupils should be trained to 
familiarity with books and made skillful in the use of 
indexes. The ability to find and digest what is really 
needed in a book, without swallowing it whole, is a valu- 
able if not indispensable acquirement for the modern 
student. 

What is Really Economical. — The answer to the objec- 



190 THE THEORY OF TEACHIIN-G 

tions raised on the ground of cost in time and money is 
that any method is economical which produces sound and 
durable results. "The longest way around is the shortest 
way home" is a familiar adage which may well find appli- 
cation here. And any method which results in vague, 
indistinct apprehension, in easily forgotten because unas- 
similated formulae, and the substitution of words for 
ideas is a costly and wasteful method, no matter what 
short-cuts it may seem to offer. Thus the successful 
teacher, in the long run, must have such a training and 
such a comprehension of the laws of learning as will 
enable him to make the due adjustment of methods to 
each other and to the mental status of the pupils under 
his tuition. 

Summary. — Method is systematic procedure according to prin- 
ciples. These principles exist in the nature of the mind itself; 
tliey are discovered, not invented. 

We must distinguish between method and manner, which 
latter covers all procedure growing out of individual tastes and 
peculiarities. 

We may also distinguish special methods, or devices for the 
application of general method to particular studies. 

One method begins with the observation and analysis of indi- 
viduals, and aims to evolve general laws and truths; this may be 
called the Objective-Analytic-Inductive Method. 

Another method begins with broad generalizations and pro- 
ceeds by alternate definition and division towards particulars, or 
individuals. This is called the Subjective-Synthetic-Deductive 
Method. ' 

The great advantages of the Inductive Method are that it 

(1) Insures clear apprehension, 

(2) Secures an active state of mind, cooperation on the part of 
the learner. 

It has certain limitations, viz.: 

(1) Some studies are deductive in their nature. 

(2) The cost of apparatus and equipment. 

(3) It takes so much time. 



• GENERAL METHOD 191 

(4) Its great demand upon teachers. 

(5) Does not sufficiently train in the use of books. 

While the inductive method is the natural method for begin- 
ners, neither method alone is sufficient. The combination of the 
two has been called the complete method. 



CHAPTER XXVII 

HABIT 

Our study of the psychology of the cognitive, or intel- 
lectual, powers led us naturally to the study of some 
topics belonging to Logic, the science of thought, and of 
General Method, which bridges the space between logic 
and pedagogics. Let us now return to psychology for a 
brief consideration of those mental activities which are 
not included among the knowing powers, but which are 
no less essential to the life of the soul. The subject next 
to be considered might well have been taken up much 
earlier in our course had we not been so intent on our 
analysis of the knowing powers. 

The Basis of Habit.— That modification of brain struc- 
ture, or of the whole nervous system, which we have seen 
to be the physical basis of memory, is also the physical 
basis of Habit, which may be characterized as the nervous, 
and mental, tendency to do again that which has once 
been done, to reproduce forms of action which have 
become familiar by repetition. It comes into existence 
through what we have called, more or less metaphor- 
ically, the forming of paths, or grooves, in the nerve 
tissues, or structures. Any action once performed is, by 
virtue of that fact, more easily performed tliereafter. 
''Acts once occurring tend to recur" is a fundamental 
law of habit, as "Mental experiences occurring together 
tend to recur together" is a law of memory. No con- 
scious experience leaves the brain as it found it. Every 

192 



HABIT 193 

conscious act inaugurates a tendency, be it never so slight, 
to a renewal of activity of the same sort; and every recur- 
rence of such activity deepens the channels, so to speak, 
and makes easier the requisite nervous reaction. 

Examples of Hahit. — Illustrations of the operation of 
the principle of habit are seen throughout animate nature. 
Something analogous to it is seen even in the inorganic 
realm. A piece of paper once folded on a given line and 
then smoothed out ever so carefully will always fold again 
more easily along that line. The dressy man's trousers 
must be often pressed to take out the wrinkles which 
insist on reappearing in the same positions. Even the 
weather seems to get into ruts of habit; when it gets to 
raining it is liable to keep on raining, and nothing seems 
more persistent than a drought. Specific examples of 
habit in human behavior are seen in the act of walking, in 
the accustoming of our fingers to the use of knife and fork 
or the playing of musical instruments, in our antipathies 
to or fondness for certain foods, and especially in addic- 
tion to such narcotics and stimulants as tobacco, opium, 
and alcoholic beverages. We also form definite and per- 
sistent ways of thinking and feeling; we become habitu- 
ally argumentative, censorious, or polite. 

Essential Cliaracterisfics of HaMf. — Analysis of habit- 
ual activities shows them to possess invariably the following 
characteristics, viz. : 

(1) By virtue of repetition and the retentive principle 
already discussed, acts become more and more easy of 
execution. As a consequence of this increased ease of per- 
formance, they are executed more rapidly. This is well 
illustrated in the process of learning to write or to finger 
a musical instrument. 

(2) A further consequence of the greater ease of execu- 
tion is found in a correspondingly diminished intensity of 



194 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

the attendant consciousness. Compare the intensity of 
conscious effort of a boy in his first piano lessons, or a 
beginner in club-swinging, with the almost unconscious 
action of the skilled pianist or gymnast; or, again, the 
first struggles over the multiplication table with the easy 
computation of the practiced accountant. 

(3) A third and crowning characteristic of habitual 
action is its relative perfection. The practiced accountant 
does not make mistakes in his additions as does the tyro; 
the club-swinging or other gymnastic exercise once diffi- 
cult has become at once more easy, more unconscious, 
and more perfect in execution. ^'Practice makes per- 
fect." Here the act of walking serves again as an illus- 
tration. When the necessary muscular coordinations have 
become. perfected and consolidated by practice, that which 
was so difficult to the learning child has become easy to 
the point of unconsciousness. The action is now, not 
reflex indeed, but automatic, habitual. The person who 
writes most perfectly, as a rule, writes with the greatest 
ease and the lowest degree of consciousness. It is not 
the beginner nor the occasional marksman who is a sure 
shot. 

Difference hetiueen HaMttial and Reflex Action. — It is 
well to emphasize here the distinction between habitual 
and reflex action. Habitual action resembles reflex some- 
what in the diminished consciousness; yet, as we have 
seen, reflex action may be intensely conscious. But all 
habitual acts were, in their inception, voluntary. Their 
automatic character is always acquired, the reverse of 
which is true in reflex action, whose most essential char- 
acteristic is its involuntariness. For this reason, we must 
consider the almost unconscious activity of the preoccu- 
pied walker to be not reflex, but habitual, secondarily 
automatic. 



HABIT 195. 

Difference hetweeii Habit and Instinct. — A similar dis- 
tinction must be drawn between habit and instinct. 
Instinctive action, though complex, is, in a sense, reflex. 
Moreover, it is innate. Instincts develop, and blossom 
on proper occasion, without any volitional process of 
training or habituation. The bee does not learn how to 
bnild its comb, nor the insect where to lay her Qgg. 
Habit, on the other hand, always has its beginning in 
voluntary acts and is often the result of long and painful 
training. It may be said with an approach to accuracy 
that instincts, are inlierited habits, while habits are 
acquired instincts; but habit begins in voluntary acts of 
the individual, while instinct does not. It antedates voli- 
tion. 

The Effects of Hah it on Life. — Rousseau, posing as an 
educational reformer, and others following his lead, have 
inveighed against the rule of habit, holding that action 
should always be governed by rational considerations and 
the perceived conditions of the moment rather than by 
tradition or inertia. It behooves the teacher, therefore, 
to consider intelligently the importance of habit to our 
mental life both as to its advantages and its hindrances. 
We have already seen that it results in greater ease and 
perfection of action, along with a diminished strain of 
attention. This allows us to perform many of the actions 
of daily life, including those most necessary to our phys- 
ical existence, with a low degree of marginal consciousness, 
leaving the attention free to focus on other and parallel 
activities which by reason of their rarity or difficulty have 
not yet been reduced to routine. In other words, much 
of our muscular activity is turned over to the almost 
automatic control of the lower nerve centers, while the 
higher centers are left free to direct the more complex 
and difficult operations which require the full light of 



196 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

focal consciousness. Thus a woman may successfully 
keep on with her knitting, or play a familiar tune on the 
piano, while carrying on a conversation which demands 
new adjustments of attention at every step. So there 
comes to be a sort of division and organization of labor 
among the nerve centers which adds greatly to the free- 
dom and efficiency of our physical and mental activities. 
This has been compared to the conditions existing in a 
department of government, or great business office, in 
which the simpler and more ordinary' labors are turned 
over to clerks and subordinates, while the higher officials 
are left free to direct the more difficult and important 
decisions which cannot be reduced to routine but must be 
decided by the highest intelligence. 

A further value of habit lies in its relation to skill. It 
is habit that frees us from the awkwardness and ineffi- 
ciency of our earlier peformance. If this were not true 
and if such acts as the use of knife and fork, the acts of 
articulation and of writing, the use of tools, or the setting 
of type, were always to remain as awkward and slow of 
performance as in our first experience with them, we 
should hardly be able to maintain our existence, to say 
nothing of reaching a high point of development and 
power. And the same principle operates towards facility 
of mental operations as well as physical acts. Habit is 
thus a great liberating agency, which makes possible the 
diversified activities, physical and mental, of the civilized 
man. 

Tlie Bondage of Habit. — On the other hand, habit, 
which with one hand brings us freedom, with the other 
brings us slavery. It tends to fix our modes and courses 
of action in rigid lines. We all have abundant experience 
of the bondage of habit, the great difficulty of escape" 
from its control when it has once been fixed in lines which 



HABIT 197 

we afterwards find to be disadvantageous. Apt illustration 
o± this is furnished by the difficulty of correcting careless 
or inaccurate forms of speech, or rustic manners. Still 
more serious is the slavery imposed by the effects on the 
nervous system of the drink habit, the tobacco habit, and 
other vices of appetite. Again, such habits as the scold- 
ing habit and the habits of prevarication or exaggeration 
may work a vitiating effect on the whole life and career 
of those who once become addicted to them. When 
St. Paul cried out, "The thing that I would not, that I 
do," he was probably feeling the coercing effect of an 
enslaving habit. And these tyrannous habits are, for the 
most part, formed very early in life, while the nervous 
system is in its plastic and formative state. The majority 
of evil habits are fixed upon the youth with fatal force 
before parents have once awakened to the possibility of 
danger. 

The question, then, as to the good or evil of habit is 
only a question as to the choice of habits. Good habits 
are the savor of life unto life. They are a safeguard to 
the soul in unguarded moments and in times of stress 
and temptation. They make possible all the goodness 
and greatness of life. Bad habits are the savor of death 
unto death. They corrupt the issues of life and hold us 
in chains which gall us with the sense of our perverted 
manhood. 

The Relatio7i of Education to Habit. — Education con- 
sists largely in two things, the setting up of worthy ideals 
and the establishment of right and useful habits of mind 
and body. But many of these habits must be fixed, if at 
all, before the age when ideals can be brought to bear 
effectively. And the unwisdom of parental neglect can- 
not always be overcome by the wholesome influences of the 
school; they come into the field too late. But, early and 



198 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

late, it is true, as Professor James has so aptly said, that 
"rt chief aim in all edtication is to make our nervous sys- 
tem our ally and not our enemy. ^^ When this declaration 
is apprehended in its full force it will furnish priceless 
guidance for the educational endeavors of both home and 
school. To quote further from Professor James: 

"Could the young but realize how soon they will become 
mere walking bundles of habits, they would give more 
heed to their conduct while in the plastic state. We are 
spinning our own fates, good or evil, and never to be 
undone. Every smallest stroke of virtue or of vice leaves 
its never so little scar. The drunken Rip Van Winkle in 
Jefferson's play excuses himself for every fresh dereliction 
by saying, 'I won't count this time.' Well! he may not 
count it, and a kind Heaven may not count it; but it is 
being counted none the less. Down among his nerve 
cells and fibers the molecules are counting it, registering 
and storing it up to be used against him when the next 
temptation comes. Nothing we ever do is, in strict 
scientific literalness, wiped out." 

Good Habits Not Spontaneous. — It seems to be a law 
that bad habits, like weeds, spring up without effort and 
almost without observation. Being in harmony with our 
animal and instinctive propensities, they need no stimula- 
tion but only repression or suppression. But good habits, 
those which serve the ends of our higher nature, like 
flowers and useful plants, require great pains and watch- 
fulness both in the seed- time and in their later develop- 
ment. Parents and teachers must remember that eternal 
vigilance and patience are the price of wholesome, helpful 
habits, whether in the field of manners, morals, or intel- 
lectual and industrial efficiency. Such intellectual habits 
as good writing, clear articulation, accuracy in computa- 
tion, and intelligent punctuation can only be established 



HABIT 199 

by watchful and persistent effort in tbe early years; while 
those high spiritual habits of courtesy, respect for rightful 
authority, and purity of thought and imagination demand 
the highest order of personal influence. Good habits are 
costly, but they are worth the price. 

Summary. — Habit is the tendency tc do again that which has 
formerly been done. Acts once occurring tend to recur. 

The essential characteristics of habit are (1) Increasing ease of 
performance, due to repetition. (2) Diminished intensity of 
attendant consciousness. (3) Greater perfection in the action. 
"Practice makes perfect." 

Habitual actions differ from reflex actions in that they are at 
first voluntary; their automatic character is always acquired. 
Habits differ from histinct in the same way. 

The greater ease and perfection of habitual action, and its 
light demand upon attention, furnish great relief to the mind 
and add greatly to its freedom and efficiency. Habit results in 
great economy of mental energy. 

But wliile habit with one hand brings us freedom, with the 
other it brings us slavery. The bondage of bad habits is the 
most grievous handicap of human life. 

Education consists largely in the early and firm establishment 
of right and useful habits, and the elimination or repression of 
evil and disadvantageous ones. 

''A chief aim in all education is to make our nervous system 
our ally and not our enemy." 

Bad habits resemble weeds in the spontaneity of their growth; 
but good habits, like flowers, require great care and vigilance 
in their cultivation. 



CHAPTER XXVIII 



INSTINCT 



Vagueness m the Use of the Term. — Perhaps no term 
employed in the discussion of human or animal experience 
is used so loosely or with so little clear conception of the 
actual fact for which it stands as the word instinct. 
Indeed, it is most often iised, in common speech, as an 
evasion, to escaj^e rather than furnish explanation. When 
we say that animals are able to do wonderful things *'by 
instinct," we have explained nothing; the problem still 
remains as dark as ever. AVhat is instinct? What should 
we mean by that much abused term? Even among psy- 
chologists and writers on animal intelligence, the word 
seems to be used with more or less ambiguity, sometimes 
in a loose, comprehensive sense and sometimes with a 
more strict and technical signification. But that is the 
misfortune of many other words as well. 

Instinct Applies only to Action. — It is perhaps well to 
note, at the outset, that the adjective instinctive is 
properly applied to action only ; it has no necessary con- 
nection with intelligence, or knowing. There is no such 
thing as instinctive knowledge; instinctive action is 
action for which knowledge is not necessary. There is no 
"know how" connected with it. And the most impressive 
and marvelous exhibitions of the operation of instinct 
are found in the lower grades of animal life, where intel- 
ligence is, at best, of a very low order. 

200 



INSTINCT 201 

IllustratioR of Instinctive Action. — Before entering 
upon any further discussion of the fundamental nature of 
this power, or endowment, it will be useful to cite a 
variety of examples of its exercise. Stock examples, 
familiar to all, are found in the actions of newly-hatched 
birds and reptiles, the mating and migration of birds, 
the intricate nest- weaving of certain birds, as the oriole, 
the cunning of the fox and death-shamming of the opos- 
sum, and the homing of pigs and carrier-pigeons. But 
much more complex and wonderful examples are to be 
found in the lower ranks of the insect world. The 
cooperative activities of bees and ants, with their peculiar 
social organization, are sufficiently striking examples; but 
even more astonishing are the various adjustments in the 
life history of moths, spiders, dragon-flies, water beetles, 
and even earthworms. 

A giddy fly stings its Qgg through the soft shell of a 
growing nut at just such time that the Qgg and the nut 
shall ripen together. The shell hardens, the kernel 
matures in time to furnish a magazine of food for the 
growing grub, which lasts him until his "teeth" are 
sharp enough to pierce the hardened shell and enable 
him to make his cUl)ut on a new field of activity. Mean- 
while, during his seclusion, the parent fly has departed 
life and the orphan grub has no instructor for his future 
needs any more than he had within his nutshell home. 
Who taught the fly where and when to lay her eggs? Who 
taught the honey-bee geometry? No one; they never 
learned, never had to learn. 

Characteristics of Instinctive Activity.— These puzzling 
and seemingly miraculous activities have much in common 
with reflex action. Indeed, a writer of great fame has 
defined instinct as "compound reflex action," and the 
definition has been widely accepted ; though it suggests 



202 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

at once that instinctive action differs from reflex iji its 
greater complexity. But while the two have much in 
common, the conviction is forced upon us that there is 
in instinctive action something more than the simple 
response to stimulus which constitutes reflex action. 

In any case, we may note the following salient charac- 
teristics, as suggested by Prof. Lloyd Morgan ("Habit and 
Instinct,'* Chapter I). 

(1) Instinctive activity, though initiated, like reflex 
action, by some external stimulus, *'is a response of the 
organism as a whole, and involves the cooperation of 
several organs and many groups of muscles." It is also 
*' determined in a greater degree than reflex action by an 
internal factor which causes uneasiness or distress, more 
or less marked, if it do not find its normal instinctive 
satisfaction," as in the case of the incubation and migra- 
tion of birds. 

(2) In the second place, instinctive activities are not 
individual in their character. They are common to all 
the species and are similarly performed by all its mem- 
bers. Moreover, they seem to be of a purely necessary 
and mechanical character. Given a certain type of 
organism and suitable conditions in the environment, and 
the phenomena of instinct follow without any individual 
variation or idiosyncrasy. This is not saying, however, 
that instinctive tendencies may not be overlaid and modi- 
fied by experience, by habit, and especially by association. 

(3) A further and most important characteristic of 
instinctive actions is seen in the fact that they, for the 
most part, have reference to the peyyetuation and loelfare 
of the species^ or race. They are not isolated or incon- 
gruous acts, as reflex actions sometimes are, but constitute 
a system, a safe and sure provision w^hich Nature has 
established for the preservation of her manifold types in 



INSTINCT 203 

the organic world. And these racial instincts have refer- 
ence not only to procreation, or reproduction, but also to 
the preservation of the individual from his enemies and 
natural dangers. 

The Explanation of Indinctive Activity. — Thus far, we 
have considered only the external characteristics, so to 
speak, of instinctive actions. But what lies back of all 
these? What is the ex2Jlanation of instinct? Is it some- 
thing ultimate and inexplicable, a sort of miraculous 
endowment concerning whose causes nothing more can be 
said? Science is not willing to look upon it in such a 
light, but seeks for some intelligible theory of its origin. 
And its latest word, stated as simply as may be, seems to 
be this: The explanation of instinct must be furnished 
by the laws of physical life, by the science of biology. 
The fundamental thing in instinct is the principle of 
heredity. But what is it that is inherited? Not knowl- 
edge, nor intelligence of any sort, but simply certain 
nervous coordinations, certain definite arrangements of 
nerve cells and paths which are already adapted to pro- 
duce muscular responses of a definite and useful sort. 

The human being spends much time and effort in 
fashioning his nervous system, in habituating it to the 
performance of desired activities; but the animal, acting 
under the law of instinct, is saved that trouble. It 
inherits its most important coordinations ready-made, and 
the machine runs perfectly, from the start, in response to 
external and internal stimuli. Instinct has been called 
'^inherited habit," and the phrase is not wholly inaccu- 
rate. 

Instinct in Man. — Man is, we say, a rational being 
whose life is largely controlled by intelligence and voli- 
tion. It is commonly held, therefore, that his instincts 
are few and comparatively unimportant, being confined in 



204 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

their operation mostly to infancy. There is a contrary 
view, however, of which Prof. Wm. James is the most 
prominent representative, which holds that man's instincts 
are even more numerous than those of the lower animals. 
This conclusion seems to he made possible by resolving all 
the emotions into instincts. It would thus seem to be 
largely a matter of definition ; but it hardly seems reason- 
able to ignore the distinction between instincts and emo- 
tions, whatever points of connection they may have. 

At all events, man's instincts lack the definite, neces- 
sary character which is characteristic of animal instinct. 
They are more transitory and are largely obscured and 
modified by the exercise of rational and volitional activi- 
ties. The life of the insect is largely, if not wholly, 
ruled by instinct; while in man reason divides sway with 
habit. 

Transitoriness of Some Instincts. — It is important to 
note, finally, that while some instincts are peremptory and 
irresistible, others are liable to suppression or starvation. 
Chicks instinctively follow the hen at birth, but if kept 
from the hen ten or twelve days they will thereafter pay 
her no regard. Instincts have their normal time of 
ripening, or rather of blossoming, and must then have 
scope for exercise or they are liable to decay or disappear- 
ance. Some are active in the first days of life; others are 
held in abeyance, as it were, and spring into activity at 
later stages in the life development. 

Summary. — The term instinct is often used very vaguely; 
in itself it does not explain anything. 

The word instinctive is properly applied only to action; there 
is no instinctive knowledge. 

Instinctive activity has much in common with reflex action, 
but is more complex. Its salient characteristics are: (1) It is a 
response of the organism as a whole, involving several organs and 
groups of muscles. (2) It is not individual in its character, but 



IKSTIKCT 205 

common to all the species. (3) It has special reference, as a rule, 
to the perpetuation of the race, or species. 

The fundamental thing in instinct is heredity, the inheritance 
of certain ner\'ous coordinations adapted to produce certain 
definite muscular responses. 

In adult human life, the operations of instinct are much modi- 
fied and obscured by the exercise of reason and volition; yet they 
are of great importance, especially in the early development of 
children. 

Some instincts are transitory in their activity; if they do not 
have timely opportunity for exercise, they are liable to be sup- 
pressed and atrophied. 



CHAPTER XXIX 

THE FEELINGS 

What Feeling Is. — Feeling is that phase of conscious- 
ness by which we attach a value, positive or negative, to 
our experiences. It is that subjective quality of mental 
experience which makes life worth living and makes vol- 
untary activity possible. If all experience were colorless, 
a matter of indifference, life would be purely mechanical, 
and even the motive for existence would be lacking. 
(For other discussion, refer to Chapter IV.) 

Classification of Feeli?igs. — Feelings may be classified 
on various bases of division; but the most obvious division 
is that according to their apparent origin and trend of 
movement, namely: 

(1) Sensations^ or feelings of bodily origin. These, as 
we have already seen, in Chapter IX, have as their phys- 
ical antecedents the stimulation by physical agencies of 
the peripheral terminations of sensory nerves, and the 
setting up of nerve currents flowing into the brain. As 
to their physical relations, they are centripetal. 

While they all have varying degrees of the pleasure-pain 
quality, or tone, and thus furnish motive for action, their 
most important office lies in their relation to knowledge, 
their cognitive aspect. And we rank as highest those 
which have this cognitive function in the highest degree. 
The classification of sensations was worked out in Chap- 
ters IX to XIV. 

206 



THE FEELINGS 207 

(2) Emotions^ or feelings of internal origin. What the 
physical antecedents of these feelings may he is still 
largely a matter of speculation and controversy. The 
j&rst observable fact is the feeling itself, arising in the 
mind upon due occasion, which is usually some mental 
image aroused under the laws of association. Some 
remembered experience or imagined situation excites a 
feeling of anger, joy, or fear, which seems to be a spon- 
taneous activity of the soul itself. But such feelings 
always have discernible physical consequences, however 
uncertain and obscure their physical antecedents may be. 
The accompanying brain excitement pours out a current 
through the motor nerves, and some form of physical 
expression results. As the word implies, emotions move 
outward; they are centrifugal. 

Their modes of outward expression are manifold both 
in kind and degree. They may take the form of ener- 
getic muscular contractions, as in running away; of vocal 
sounds, as in laughter or crying; of facial expression, 
blushing, the brightening of the eyes, the creeping of the 
scalp, "goose flesh," and all the various disturbances of 
the circulation. In the disciplined adult, these overt 
expressions are to some extent inhibited, or held in 
check; but in young children and in undisciplined per- 
sons, they have free play and reveal with certainty any 
emotional tumult within. 

Tlie Refiexive Effect^ or ''' Back-stroke'^ of Feeling. — But 
this physical outcome of emotional excitement does not 
end with simple expression. It, in some way, reacts upon 
the exciting emotion, increasing or otherwise modifying 
it. Thus the outward expression of anger in set teeth, 
clenched fists, and especially in violent language, returns 
upon the mind; and, within limits, the more we fume 
the angrier we become. He who runs through fear draws 



208 THE THEORY OP TEACHING 

fresh fear from liis own flight; and he who laughs tickles 
himself anew, until his laughter, perhaps, becomes uncon- 
trollable. This reflexive effect of emotional expression is 
tacitly recognized in our prudential efforts at repression, in 
such maxims as, *' When you are angry, count ten before you 
speak; if very angry, count a hundred," and by the tradi- 
tional boy who whistles while passing a graveyard at night. 

But the attempt to smother emotion by suppressing its 
physical expression does not always have a successful 
issue. Inhibition seems, sometimes, to act only as a sort 
of dam, which serves to accumulate nervous energy until 
it finally breaks over the restraint w^ith explosive force. 
The ultra-vigorous expression which follows furnishes 
relief, and the wave of feeling rapidly subsides. 

The Genesis of Feeling. — Under what conditions does 
feeling arise? What are the stimulating causes of the 
pleasurable or painful tone of consciousness? In the case 
of organic sensations, we have seen that it was due to 
physiological changes, the disintegration of tissues from 
various causes. Other sensations result, also, from phys- 
ical causes. With emotions, the case seems to be differ- 
ent ; they seem to arise as always the consequences, or at 
least the concomitants, of action or of ideas. Activity 
and emotions of certain kinds appear to be inseparably 
connected, especially in the experience of young children. 
In our adult consciousness, emotion seems to require an 
antecedent in the form of images or ideas. If we are 
angry or joyful or envious, the feeling has some objective 
terminus in our minds. If our feeling is one of eagerness 
for action, even, there must first be in mind some pictured 
result of action. Whenever we see a person manifesting 
the expressive signs of emotion, we always mentally seek 
for the intellectual antecedents, the ideas which have 
called up his emotional state. 



THE FEELINGS 209 

The pleasure-pain element in feeling, especially in sen- 
sation, seems to be definitely related to the degree of 
stimulation. In general, it may be said that pleasur- 
able sensation is the result of moderate stimulation, 
while low or high degrees of excitation result in pain. 
Thus the full glare of the sun in the eyes, or the dim- 
ness of fading twilight or a foggy day, are disagree- 
able, while the normal amount of sunlight is always 
enjoyable. What we desire as to all stimulations is that 
they shall be "just about right," avoiding excessive 
extremes. 

Different Types of Emotion. — Emotions have been 
classified, among other ways, into (1) Egoistic, or Self- 
regarding, (2) Altruistic, or Social, and (3) The Higher 
Sentiments. The egoistic, or anti-social, feelings are 
strong and comparatively well defined; they are those 
primal, elemental feelings whose aim is self-preservation, 
and which man shares with the higher animals. Among 
them are Anger, Fear, Hatred, Vanity, and Love of 
Power and Dominion. These feelings are necessary to 
give force and efficiency to the life and character, but 
must be tempered by and properly correlated with the 
higher emotions. 

The Social Feelings are all those which bring us 
into human relations and lead us to seek the satisfactions 
which they afford, by some surrender of personal inde- 
pendence and mere self-regard. They are the basis of all 
that reciprocity and mutual consideration which lie at the 
foundation of civilized society. The great generic form 
of social feeling is Sympathy, the ability to put one's self 
in the place of another and make, in a sense, the feelings 
of others our own. Kindred to this, is Love, in the 
higher sense of the word, sexual attraction belonging 
rather to the self-regarding feelings. 



210 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

The Higher Sentiments. — The Higher Sentiments are 
the Intellectual Sentiment, the Esthetic Sentiment, and 
the Moral, or Ethical, Sentiment. 

(1) The Intellectual Sentiment includes all those feel- 
ings which arise with reference to the pursuit or the 
possession of knowledge, as Wonder, Curiosity, the Pains 
of Ignorance, and the Joy of Understanding. All these 
are exhibited by the child in great purity. It is the pain 
of ignorance which makes of him "an animated interroga- 
tion point"; and the dying down of curiosity in later 
years is an ominous sign which calls upon us as teachers 
to make careful examination as to our own responsibility 
in the case. It is the joy of understanding which moves 
the scientist and the philosopher to devote their lives to 
the pursuit of truth. 

(2) The Esthetic Sentiment embraces all forms of feel- 
ing having relation to Beauty, the satisfaction that we 
feel in the contemplation of symmetry, proportion, har- 
mony, delicacy, purity, grandeur, etc., and the pain 
aroused by their absence. It is the starting point of all 
art, and its development is an important part of true 
education. Children, as a rule, are responsive to simple 
forms of beauty, and need only the stimulus of a sympa- 
thetic touch on the part of their instructors. *'See there; 
isn't that pretty?" is a word which ought often to be 
spoken to little children, but always with discrimination. 
Care should be taken not to stimulate any affectation or 
pretense of a feeling which is not genuinely felt. The 
ministry of aesthetic culture to the refinement and eleva- 
tion of life and its pleasures is a boon of which no child 
should be deprived through ignorance or neglect. 

(3) The Moral Sentiment comprises those feelings which 
have special relation to conduct and personal responsi- 
bility. The primary element is the feeling of obligatmi 



THE FEELIN'GS 211 

or ougJiUiess. This accompanies the moral intuition to 
which reference was made in Chapter XXII, the innate rec- 
ognition that some acts are right and therefore ought to be 
done. This is the fundamental factor in what we call Con- 
science, a term very loosely conceived in the popular mind. 

Conscience. — Conscience should be distinguished from 
moral judgment. It never passes on the morality of con- 
crete acts, never decides luhat acts are right or wrong. 
It comprises (a) The intuitive recognition of a principle 
of right, above mentioned, (b) The feeling of obligation, 
or duty, in the presence of alternative lines of action, 
(c) The feeling oi complacency, or satisfaction, over duty 
done, or of self-condemnation in view of failure in duty. 
When this self-condemnation, or sting of conscience, 
becomes acute and persistent, it is called remorse. The 
hourly question as to whether given acts are right or 
wrong, moral or immoral, is one for the judgment only, 
an intellectual question. The so-called moral judgment 
is simply the judgment occupied with questions of moral- 
ity, or obligation. In such cases, however, judgment is 
peculiarly liable to error and perversion through the 
warping effect of personal desires, the bias of feeling dis- 
cussed in Chapter XXII. Along with the stimulation 
and quickening of the feeling of duty, we should therefore 
attend carefully to the training of the judgment in its 
contact with questions of personal conduct. 

A "tender conscience" involves quickness and strength 
of moral feeling. A "seared" conscience is a deadness to 
moral sentiment, induced by allowing appetite and selfish 
desires to override and smother the feeling of obligation, 
A "perverted" conscience is only a perverted judgment 
as to lines of personal duty, and is often the natural 
result of education. Fanaticism usually results from a 
combination of intense moral feeling with a traditional 



212 THE THEORY OP TEACHING 

and ill-grounded system of judgments and beliefs, as in 
the case of the Moslem zealots who follow the Mahdi to 
rapine and slaughter from religious motives. The quick- 
ening of conscience and the training of the judgment are 
thus both essential factors in the production of moral 
character. Conscience without intelligence and sound 
judgment is liable to do much harm as well as good. And 
the question, Shall I do my duty? is not more common 
or more vital than the other question, What is my duty? 

Feelings as Motives. — The fundamental fact to be kept 
in mind by the educator is that feelings are the main- 
springs of action, intellectual as well as physical. The 
relation of feeling to will may best be considered in a 
succeeding chapter; but we are already prepared to see 
the importance of developing by every suitable means the 
social feelings and higher sentiments, so as to hold in 
proper balance those egoistic feelings which give force 
and efficiency to action; for "out of the heart are the 
issues of life." 

Chilclren^s Feelings. — The emotions of children natur- 
ally and inevitably differ from those of adult life in 
several respects. At the outset, as has already been inti- 
mated, they are largely connected with physical activities. 
Again, they are greatly dependent on presentations, or 
sense experiences. Sensations, especially very painful 
ones, give rise to paroxysms of anger and impatience. 
Agreeable sensations excite emotions of joy and delight. 
Of course, anticipations of physical pleasure and pain play 
a great part ; but in childhood the representative element 
is still relatively small, and abstract ideas have little or 
no power to arouse feeling. This fact, that the basis of 
childish emotion is so largely physical and presentative, is 
one of special importance to those charged with the train- 
ing of children. 



THE FEELINGS 213 

It is also important to consider the stormy and tumultu- 
ous character of childish feeling. The power of inhibi- 
tion is weak, since experience is so narrow and there is so 
little power of representation, or the holding in mind of 
images calculated to counteract or oppose the present 
excitement. We cannot, therefore, very successfully 
appeal to abstract motives or the higher sentiments, but 
must rather secure inhibition by means of diverting the 
child's attention to a new set of interesting percepts. 

Again, the feelings of childhood are chiefly of the ego- 
istic, or anti-social, type. The saying that "a little child 
is a little pig," is not far wide of the truth. The child, 
it is true, has social impulses, and is constantly made 
conscious of his dependence; but the rise, through culti- 
vation, of steady altruistic feeling and the higher senti- 
ments, is slow and calls for the greatest wisdom and 
persistence on the part of the parents and teachers. 

The appended outline will, no doubt, serve a useful 
purpose; but it should be recognized that the possible 
emotions are so numerous, and so blend together in vari- 
ous compound or mixed feelings, that no satisfactory and 
really scientific classification of them seems possible. 

Summary. — Feeling is that aspect of consciousness which, 
through its tone of pleasure or pain gives value to our experi- 
ences. 

It comprises (1) Sensations, or feelings of physical origin, due 
to the stimulation of sensory nerves. (2) Emotions, or feelings of 
internal origin, which find expression chiefly through the activity 
of the motor nerves. 

The physical outcome of emotional excitement known as 
expression reacts again upon the exciting emotion, increasing or 
otherwise modifying it. 

Emotions may be classified as (1) Egoistic, or self-regarding, 
(2) Social, (3) The Higher Sentiments, which are distinguished as 
the Intellectual, Esthetic, and Ethical Sentiments. 

Conscience should be distinguished from moral judgment; it 



214 



THE THEORY OF TEACHING 



includes the intuition of a^rinciple of right, the feehng of obliga- 
tion, and the feelings of self-complacency or self-condemnation. 

Feelings as motives are the mainsprings of action, and there- 
fore their proper cultivation is of the greatest moment in educa- 
tion. 

Children's feelings differ from those of adult life in their stormy 
and transitory character, as well as in being so closely connected 
with physical activities and presentations. 

1. General — Organic. 



Feeling, or 
Sensibility 



1. Sensations 
(Of exter- 
nal origin) 



2. Special 



2. Emotions 
(Of inter- 
nal origin) 



2. Social 



1. Pigoistic or 
Anti-social 



Higher 
Sentiments 



'Muscular, 

Tactile, 

Thermal, 
' Gustatory, 

Olfactory, 

Auditory, 
L Visual. 

Anger, 

Hatred, 

Fear, 

Rivalry, 

Domination^ 

. etc. 

rSympathy, 
J Love, 
Respect, 
LReverence, etc. 

f Intellectual — 

love of truth. 
iEsthetic — love 

of beauty. 
Ethical — love 
of duty. 



CHAPTER XXX 

WILL 

What Will Is. — The mind not only knows and feels; it 
determines, in some measure, the direction of its own 
activities. Images arise in consciousness, either sought 
or unsought, and these call forth feeling, either desire or 
repulsion, pleasure or pain. These feelings, in turn, 
incite the mind to further activity, which may, and 
usually does, inaugurate bodily activity of some sort. 
Our images and thoughts arouse feelings, and our feel- 
ings impel us to do things. But the soul has a native 
energy by virtue of which it may consent or refuse to 
obey this impulsion of feeling. Indeed, there may be 
conflicting feelings and antagonistic impulses between 
which the mind must choose. This power of the soul to 
consent or refuse and to determine the lines of its own 
action is called Will. Will may, then, be conceived as 
the very core of personality, the central, real self, out of 
which character develops. A good man is thus a man of 
good will. Will has been defined as "the soul's power 
of self-direction towards chosen ends." 

It must be remembered, however, that the term tvill 
is used with a variety of significations by writers on 
psychology. By some, the term is connected with all 
forms of action, so that, in this sense of the term, all 
doing involves willing, no matter how mechanical or 
involuntary the action may be. It is only one step 
from this broad use of the word to the discarding of 

215 



216 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

will entirely as a distinct and independent function of 
mind. 

Different Types of Action. — It will be useful, therefore, 
to take a brief survey of the different types of bodily 
movement of which the human organism is capable. We 
have already, in Chapter VIII, distinguished two forms 
of movement which have no necessary connection with 
mind, though they may have an incidental result in con- 
sciousness. These are: 

(1) Spontaneous Aetion, the aimless movements of 
infancy, beginning before birth even. 

(2) Eeflex Action, which results from the external 
stimulation of nerve ends, and which may be attended by 
consciousness, but is not necessarily so. To these we 
must now add : 

(3) Instinctive Action, which is, in a sense, reflex, but 
more complex in character and far-reaching in results. 
It is directed towards some definite end, but this is not a 
conscious end, and is generally related to the preservation 
of the species. The nest-building and migration of birds 
and the wonderful action of the caterpillar in spinning its 
cocoon are examples of this blind but perfect working 
towards an unseen end. 

(4) We may distinguish another type of movement as 
Impulsive Action. Though the term * 'impulsive" has 
been used in a variety of significations by psychologists, it 
will be used here to denote that prompt and unconsidered 
sort of action which often follows the entrance of an 
image, with its attendant impulse, into the mind. *'I did 
it without thinking" is the only explanation which the 
impulsive doer can make of his deed. It is a common 
type of action with children, and is voluntary only in the 
sense that it was not resisted ; there is no balancing of 
motives, no consideration of an alternative action. The 



WILL 217 

man who cannot swim but who without hesitation jumps 
into the water to save a drowning child, an act without 
justification in reason, acts impulsively. 

Voluntary Action. — We come now to the highest type 
of action, movements which may properly be called A^ol- 
untary, or Volitional, and for which the other forms of 
action have prepared the way. Here, several elements, 
or conditions, are to be noticed: (1) A representation, or 
image, of some possible satisfaction to be derived, (2) The 
desire excited by that representation, (3) The recognition 
of an alternative action, (4) Deliberation, or the weighing 
of opposing considerations. "We cannot eat our cake 
and keep it too;" which shall be done? 

All these conditions must be fulfilled before we come to 
volition proper. All of them except desire are intellectual 
activities. Desire is primarily a form of feeling, the* feel- 
ing of unrest, craving, want; but it is also the border land 
between feeling and will. It furnishes the motive or 
occasion on which the will acts. 

Volition proper comprises two steps, or phases. (1) The 
first is that of Choice and EesoWe, by which deliberation 
is closed and the line of action determined upon. Some- 
times, the deliberative process is long and painful, and 
decision is reached with difficulty. At other times, the 
die is cast with great promptitude. This will be true 
when intellectual apprehension of all the elements of the 
situation is clear. 

But whenever the point of decision is reached, we enter 
upon (2) the Executive phase of volition, the choice of 
means and measures for accomplishing the resolve, and 
the putting of these into operation. This is the stage of 
action ; but it will be observed that physical activity is 
only the last and practical step in the whole process. 
This executive stage, like the stage of deliberation, may 



218 THE THEORY OP TEACHING 

be short or prolonged. The execution of a resolve, 
indeed, may be long deferred, as the boy's resolve to be a 
lawyer when lie becomes a man. In this case, the stage 
of resolve may be said to be prolonged; the resolution 
must be often confirmed, or renewed. 

The Development of Will through Plnjxical Exercise. — 
Will is developed only by exercise. And it can be exer- 
cised only in connection with other activities. Its first 
field of exercise is in connection with bodily movements, 
the gaining of muscular control. The child at play, learn- 
ing new movements and coercing his awkward, reluctant 
muscles into their performance, is taking his first lessons 
in will-culture. A little later, he will find less agreeable 
but no less valuable will-training in his daily piano prac- 
tice, in learning to sew, or to use tools, or in getting 
more perfect control of his vocal chords and the muscles 
employed in accurate articulation. Properly planned 
practice in club-swinging and other calisthenic exercises 
is of recognized value not only as physical exercise, but 
also as a mode of will-training. 

This value, however, inheres only in exercises that are 
still imperfectly mastered and therefore demand conscious 
effort in their performance. When actions, however com- 
plex, become easy through the operation of the laws of 
habit, they lose in a measure their educational value. 
There is no disciplinary profit in continuing to practice 
exercises which cost little or no conscious etTort. 

In teaching children to articulate plainly, to sing, to 
move promptly at command, and to control their muscles 
properly in writing and drawing or in the use of tools, we 
are doing much more for them than simply giving them 
skill in practical arts. 

Development of Voluntary Control over Ideas and Feel- 
ings. — Another phase in the development of will through 



WILL 219 

exercise is connected with the vohintary control of ideas 
and feelings. The teacher's most important contact with 
the will of the child is found in its relation to attention. 
And this is vital not only in the relation of attention to 
the act of learning, but equally in its relation to charac- 
ter. Control the direction of the child's attention and 
you control the springs of action. In what is called invol- 
untary attention there is a passivity of will; the act 
ensues without any consideration of alternatives, in which 
respect it resembles what we call impulsive action. But 
when there is division or opposition of interests, the act 
of choice must be made; and in voluntary attention we 
have the presence of volition in its strictest sense. The 
problem, then, is how to secure the right choice and 
determination on the part of the pupil. From what has 
already been said, it will be seen that the will does not 
act without reasons, and these reasons are found in the 
child's ideals and interests. In short, his feelings and 
desires, as aroused by his apprehension of things, are the 
key to his conduct. It is true that his desires are condi- 
tioned, in greater or less measure, by his heredity, his 
constitutional and inborn tendencies; but these do not 
appear in full force in the earliest years. Here, then, is 
the opportunity of the educator to shape the ideals and 
predispose the emotional activities of the child, to arouse 
and stimulate the higher sentiments, before the heavy 
hand of ancestry is laid too strongly on the growing 
youth. What early interests shall we inspire, and how 
shall we accomplish the result? is our first and perennial 
question. But, as we saw in Chapter XVI, remote inter- 
ests are the essential condition of voluntary attention ; 
and it may now be said that all volition implies these 
remote or far-reaching interests which can be pitted 
against present impulses. Whatever, therefore, is useful 



220 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

for the development of wholesome permanent interests is 
thereby of value for fashioning the will and establishing 
sound character. 

The Estahlisliment of Character. — What has just been 
said derives its validity largely from the fact that Habit 
has the same relation to volition that it does to thinking 
and feeling. Indecision and feebleness of resolve may be, 
to a considerable degree, constitutional, the result of 
temperament; but much can be done by proper training 
to overcome the defect. One means to this end is the 
throwing of responsibility upon young persons at an early 
age, so that they shall become accustomed, even in the 
plastic stage of development, to the forming of decisions 
affecting important results. The gamm on the city 
streets, through the necessity of looking out for himself, 
often gets a training of will which is denied to the 
pampered children of the well-to-do. His fatal handicap 
lies, however, in the narrowness of his emotional and 
rational development. 

Firmness, or steadfastness, of resolve in the midst of 
diverting tendencies and temptations is a most impor- 
tant habit of will. This, however, is not the same as 
obstinacy, which is rather a disease of will than an evi- 
dence of strength of will. The common misconception 
on this point leads to much error in the estimate of indi- 
vidual character. Self-will, or waywardness of character, 
is usually the result of unregulated and untempered emo- 
tions, along with a deficient intellectual appreciation of 
social responsibility. Moral training, or the training of 
will; is thus not an undertaking which can be separated 
in any degree from the training of intellect and sensi- 
bility. The soul must be treated as a unit having con- 
stant interrelation and interdependence among all its 
powers. And action is not simply the result of feeling 



WILL 221 

and knowing, but is equally the occasion and the means 
by which they come into being and reach their develop- 
ment. It is no accident that the arts always precede the 
sciences. 

Summary. — Will is the soul's power of self-direction towards 
chosen ends, its power to consent or refuse, and determine the 
lines of its own action. 

We may distinguish the following types of bodily movement, 
viz.: 

(1) Spontaneous action, the aimless movements of infancy. 

(2) Reflex action, resulting from external stimulation. 

(3) Instinctive action, more complex than reflex action. 

(4) Impulsive action, the unconsidered response to images as 
internal stimuli, and 

(5) Voluntary action, the highest type. 

Voluntary action is conditioned upon (1) A representation of 
some possible satisfaction, (2) Desire excited by that representa- 
tion, (3) The recognition of possible alternative action, and (4) De 
liberation, the weighing of considerations. 

• Volition proper includes two steps, (1) Choice, or Resolution, 
and (2) Execution. These may be separated in point of time. 

Will is developed by exercise and in connection with other 
activities, especially bodily exercise. In childhood, this exercise 
consists largely in acquiring muscular control. 

The teacher's most important contact with the will of the child 
is found in its relation to attention, the motives for which are 
derived from the child's ideals and interests. 

Habits of will may and should be cultivated, since these con- 
stitute the solid basis of character. 



PART III 

PRINCIPLES OF TEACHING 

In the remaining portion of this book, it is not the 
purpose to attempt a complete and scientillc formulation 
of the science of teaching. That is a task which still 
awaits an abler hand; many have attempted it, but the 
day of accomplishment is still distant. It has been 
thought useful, however, to attempt a selection of those 
psychological truths which are generally accepted as past 
the hypothetic stage and of greatest value to the teacher 
for the practical guidance which they afford, and to trace 
out, in each case, their most obvious and unquestioned 
applications to the art of teaching. It is not claimed that 
these principles have been arranged in the exact order of 
either their importance or their scientific dependence; 
that must be, as yet, more or less a matter of opinion. 
Yet some attempt has been made to present them in a 
coherent and rational arrangement. 

Neither can the writer hope that he has been successful 
in tracing and adequately presenting all the pedagogical 
applications or implications of each selected principle. 
lie has simply taken each in turn as a text under which 
to advance such practical considerations as seem to him of 
most direct value to the actual teacher. A secondary 
purpose to be served by Part III, as was said in the 
Preface, is to furnish a practical review of what has been 
covered in Part II. Of course the object of this review 

223 



224 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

is to put the prospective teacher into a more easy and free 
command of those psychological truths which are funda- 
mental to his art. The profitableness of such a review to 
the student has been abundantly demonstrated by the 
experience of the writer. 

Note. — It has not been thought necessary in Part III to close 
each chapter with a summary as in the preceding parts of the 
book; but it is recommended that the class be required to memo- 
rize, as a review lesson, the "Principle" and the several "Appli- 
cations" of each successive chapter. These concise formulations 
of educational doctrine cannot be too firmly stamped into the 
minds of intending teachers. 



CHAPTER XXXI 



MIND AND BODY 



Principle I. — Mind and body co7istitute a partnership, 
Meiital activity is conditioned by brain activity, tvliich is 
modified, in turn, by general bodily conditions, among 
wliicli are nutrition and fatigue. 

The pupil should here recall all that he has ever 
learned elsewhere which goes to substantiate the above 
propositions, reviewing briefly the facts concerning reflex 
action, sense-impressions, sense-defects, retention, and 
the conditions of attention. Let the class also think out, 
from experience, or otherwise, the various effects of 
mental states on bodily conditions, as sudden fear, grief, 
mental depression, joy, etc. In short, the pupil should 
summon his knowledge of both physiology and psychology 
to aid in the full appreciation of Locke's famous 
apothegm, "A sound mind in a sound body is a short but 
full description of a happy state in this world." And a 
happy state must first be an efficient state. 

Undoubtedly, we shall never have perfection of school 
work and results until we adopt a system of expert 
medical supervision of school children and schoolroom 
conditions. But this, perhaps, implies a new type of 
education and training for the medical, or sanitary, super- 
visor. The prescriptions which he should make will not 
be of drugs, but of gymnastic exercises, of proper dis- 
tribution of air, light, and warmth ; and these prescrip- 
tions would often have to be taken by the taxpayer rather 
than the child. 

225 



226 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

Application 1. — The school must take due cognizance 
of the chilcfs phi/sical cojidition as regards sense-defects, 
important epochs of physical developiment, and temporary 
indispositions. 

(1) Physical Defects. — The most common and obstruct- 
ive of the sense-defects liable to be found in the school- 
room are abnormalities of the eye and partial deafness, 
and the first danger is that the teacher may not discover 
their existence. Often, a child of dull hearing gets a 
settled reputation for stupidity, whereas he has never 
clearly or connectedly heard the words of instruction or 
the responses of his classmates; and yet the teacher has 
not suspected the true situation, a negligence on his part 
which is unpardonable. In such a case, even if the defect 
be found incurable, much can be done by giving the pupil 
a seat where he can best see and hear both the teacher 
and class. 

Every teacher should have a training which will enable 
him to detect the presence of myopia or kindred visual 
imperfections; and, when discovered, prompt measures 
should be taken to impress upon parents the importance 
of seeking without delay the services of the optician. 
Nothing can be more cruel than to leave such a pupil to 
struggle on at a disadvantage in his class, and in the 
world about him, with the added danger of further 
damage to his eyes through neglect and abnormal strain. 
Color-blindness should also be tested for, and due effort 
made to overcome it, or the color-ignorance which often 
simulates it, by proper exercise in the discrimination and 
naming of colors in flowers, fabrics, colored papers, etc. 

It sometimes happens that children find their way into 
the lower grades of school who are, in some degree, 
"feeble-minded" and incapable of instruction by ordinary 
school methods and appliances. This furnishes a delicate 



Mlis^D AND BODY 227 

situation for the teacher, who should, in such cases, seek 
the aid and counsel of the school officers. The school as 
a whole ought not to be allowed to suffer from the con- 
tinued presence of a pupil thus disqualified, however 
pitiful the case may be. The danger is sometimes a moral 
danger as well. 

(2) Adolescence. — Every teacher will be better fitted for 
his work by as full an understanding as possible of the 
more important stages in the physical development of 
children and youth. The kindergartner and primary 
teacher should study watchfully the physical conditions 
and handicaps of early childhood. But the most impor- 
tant stage or crisis is that known as adolescence, which 
begins with the approach of puberty and extends through 
several years, though its upper limit is not well defined. 
The earlier years of adolescence, covering, roughly, 
the 7th and 8th Grades and the first half of the High 
School, are often unsympathetically alluded to as 'Hhe 
awkward age," '*the silly age," and even "the fool 
age." It is the time in which the boy first comes to a 
proper estimate of the function of neckties and shoe- 
blacking. 

This is a critical time in the life of every boy and girl. 
Great physical changes are in progress, and the mind is in 
a state of "unstable equilibrium" ; it is a time of wayward 
and disturbing emotions. But it is also the period in 
which ideals are actively forming, and in which the die of 
life is cast. It is therefore the age of opportunity for the 
wise teacher, while demanding of him great patience and 
intelligent sympathy. There is no truer field of useful- 
ness and service than that of the teacher in the "Grammar 
Grades," for in these grades, if anywhere, are cemented 
the firm foundations of both scholarship and character, in 
most cases. 



)l'ZS THE TlIEOilY OF TEACHING 

(3) Tcmporanj Indisposifions. — Pupils are not in 
equally good condition for mental labor at all times. 
While the teacher can hardly attempt to adjust his 
demands to all these fluctuating conditions, he should be 
watchful to note and regard the more serious instances. 
The effect of hard colds and influenzas and of nervous 
headaches, to say nothing of epidemic diseases, makes 
serious but unavoidable inroads upon the work of the 
school; while, during the adolescent period, unspoken 
but watchful cognizance should be taken of the periodic 
disturbances to which one sex is necessarily subject. 
This means, of course, that we cannot expect all members 
of a class to be at all times equally well prepared for the 
recitation in hand; and measures should be taken, by 
reviews or otherwise, to distribute and equalize the work 
over longer periods than the daily unit. 

Application 2. — Tlie school must fuiniisli suitable con- 
ditions for work, such as good ventilation, 2)^^opcr tcmpcr- 
ature and lighting, desks adapted to the bodies of the 
pupils, and sanitary school surroundings. 

The detailed sttidy of these physical conditions of 
school work belongs, as the studies of teachers' training 
schools are usually arranged, to the subject of School 
Management, or School Economy. But they seldom 
receive, even there, the full and careful attention that 
they deserve. The problem of a proper management of 
the light in schoolrooms is one that is frequently ignored 
or inadequately solved. The impositions of our modern 
civilization upon the eye are so exacting and so unnatural, 
biologically speaking, that every available means ought to 
be employed for reducing and mitigating these abnormal 
demands. The common error of hanging window shades 
at the top and opening them at the bottom only, is but a 
single instance of the current ignorance and malpractice. 



It is quite as much the true husiness of the teacher to 
he watchful ahout the ventilation and temperature of the 
room, and cognizant of the flushed faces and heavy eyes 
which result from disuse of even the imperfect means 
provided for their prevention or relief, as it is to hear 
lessons and keep order. It is also the duty of the teacher 
wlio is not under close and responsihle supervision, as in 
country scliools for instance, to he qualified in point of 
knowledge to advise school officers as to the bnst methods 
of remedying or alleviating injurious conditions in the 
school environment. 

Application 3. — 77ie daily program should he so 
planned as to recitation and study periods, and the suc- 
cession of various subjects ^ that the pupiVs powers may he 
duly exercised vnthout unnecessary or excessive fatigue. 

The brain, like the rest of the body, does not work 
with equal energy in all its parts; while one part of the 
cortex is at its highest activity another may bo compara- 
tively inactive. Great activity of the motor centers, for 
instance, does not usually coexist with a corresponding 
energy of those concerned in abstract thinking. "Change 
is rest" is true of brain activity if anywhere. Again, the 
nervous system as a whole has times of maximum and 
minimum intensity, under the law of fatigue. It is 
greatest in the morning, after the night's rest; it oscil- 
lates during the waking hours, but is naturally lowest at 
the close of the day's work. Some experiments which 
have been collated seem to indicate that there is a con- 
siderable depression of mental energy in school children 
soon after the middle of the forenoon session — about 
eleven o'clock — followed by a partial recovery in the 
afternoon. In the afternoon, attention again flags in the 
later hours. These facts, and the experience of all 
observant teachers, point to the practical wisdom of 



230 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

placing those exercises which demand most severe think- 
ing in the fresher parts of the day, and putting those 
requiring most muscular activity, like gymnastics, pen- 
manship, and singing, in hours in which the cerebral 
activity is naturally lowest. Again, study and recitation 
should alternate in the day's program, though the study 
and recitation of the same lesson should not be consecu- 
tive. The pupil's work should not consist in alternately 
loading up a lesson and (immediately) unloading it. He 
should be expected, as a rule, to keep each lesson "on his 
stomach" a little while before regurgitating it. 

Night Study. — A further suggestion, with reference to 
students of higher grade, may not be amiss. There is 
much mismanagement among such students of their even- 
ing study hours. They are apt to fritter away the early 
evening hours and then to push study far into the night, 
after the nervous system has become fagged and jaded. 
They are often deceived by a sort of fitful and illusory 
blazing up of nervous excitability late in the night which 
is both deceptive and injurious, being in some degree akin 
to the accelerated action of intoxication. One seems then 
to be thinking rapidly and easily; but the permanent 
residuum of knowledge and understanding is small. 
"What seems to be learned at those times, when the 
student ought to be in bed, is unstable and easily effaced, 
as next day's recitation so often demonstrates. Those 
exercises which require least of memorizing and reasoning 
and most of motor activity, such as writing out exercises 
and translations or practicing oral expression, may be 
most safely done in what are, or ought to be, the drowsy 
hours. 



CHAPTER XXXII 

HEREDITY AND ENVIRONMENT 

Principle 11.— Mental Development is due to the con- 
stant interaction of (1) hereditary characteristics, and 
{2) the various factors of enviroiiment which the mind 
selects from the complex whole, 

Heredity.--T\iQ principle of uniformity and continuity 
in nature results in, or includes, the law of Heredity, the 
transmission of characteristic traits from ancestry to 
posterity. We may note the distinction between General, 
or Race Heredity, and what may be called Special 
Heredity. All men, for example, inherit from their 
ancestors two legs, arms, and hands, two eyes, the faculty 
of speech— the race characteristics, in short. More 
narrowly, each race or tribe, as the French, the Irish, or 
the Arabs, have physical and mental characteristics which 
belong to all members of the particular nationality from 
generation to generation. Plants, too, have their hered- 
ity, as in the jointed stems and the knotted joints of the 
Pink family. 

By special heredity is meant the transmission of family 
traits or of individual peculiarities from father to son, as 
in the case of the musician Mozart, the Adams family, 
and those cases of family resemblance familiar to the 
observation of every one. There is here, however, no 
such uniformity or reliability of transmission as in race- 
heredity. And a wide controversy has prevailed in late 
years among biologists as to whether physical or other 

231 



'^32 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

characteristics acquired during the lifetime of the indi- 
vidual are ever transmitted to his descendants, the nega- 
tive, or Weissmannian, side of the debate seeming to have 
the advantage at present. 

Environment. — By Environment is meant all the sur- 
roundings which in any way affect the life of the individ- 
ual. They may be classified as (a) Physical, including 
climate, the habitat — whether shore, mountain, or prairie 
— food, shelter, and occupation; (b) Social, including the 
family organization, the community life, political and 
religious institutions, and all forms of education. 

It is important to note that environment, both physical 
and social, may be the same from generation to genera- 
tion, and thus many results have been attributed to 
heredity which are really due to what may be called 
hereditary environment. The question of the relative 
force and influence of these two factors, heredity and 
environment, has been much discussed during the past 
generation, one scliool contending that heredity deter- 
mines character, and that education counts for compara- 
tively little; the other side holding that heredity can bo 
in large measure, if not wholly, overcome and canceled 
by an education which begins early enough and proceeds 
wisely and thoroughly enough. It is well for the 
teacher's success if he belongs to the latter camp and has 
an abiding faith in the efficiency of education; yet he 
needs also to be alert to discover the trend of hereditary 
influences in each pupil, that he may the better under- 
stand the individual problem with which he has to cope. 

AppLiCATiOi^" 1. — TJie scliool must proceed 07i the 
assiimption that all human minds have, in the main, like 
fundamental tendencies, and yet that each has his oivn 
individual characteristics. 

These racial characteristics, due to general heredity, 



HEREDITY AND EISVIRONMENT 233 

furnish the field of psychology. It is for the sake of 
understanding more clearly what these fundamental 
human tendencies are that teachers should study psy- 
chology — not so much its unsolved problems, however, as 
its assured and formulated results. This will also render 
more intelligent and successful that personal study of 
individual peculiarities which is indispensable to the best 
teaching. 

The term "child study" has thus come to have two 
current meanings; it is sometimes used to mean the 
same as infant psychology, while at other times it signifies 
the personal study by the teacher of the individual child. 
Both studies are important, and the one furnishes a basis 
for the other. The study of psychology helps us to 
understand what the pupil ought to be and to become. 
Personal study and insight nmst find him, as he is, and fit 
the work and training to him. If the pupil is abnormal, 
it is essential to know why and how far; and even the 
normal child will have his own peculiar bent of mind, 
which the teacher has need to discover and recognize. 

Application 2. — All subject -matter, and the method of 
teaching, must he adapted to the nonnal pupil, and, at the 
same time, not fail to find points of contact in each indi- 
vidual, ivhatever Ids peculiarities may he. 

Our principle speaks of factors of environment "which 
the mind selects from the complex whole." No indi- 
vidual mind is responsive to all the elements of its 
environment, but each has its own special, predominant 
interests. Why does a particular mind select one class of 
phenomena rather than another to react upon? The 
reasons are manifold. It is here that the inflaence of 
heredity appears, often giving a bias, or bent, to the 
mind which strongly determines the propensities, tastes, 
and interests; the child is "a chip of the old block." 



234 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

Secondly, at any given stage of development the past 
experience and environment of the child determine his 
mental reactions. The principle of Apperception largely 
rules, by which all new interest and acquisition spring 
out of the old. We pursue inquisitively only that which 
we have the mental foundation for comprehending. 
Along with this law that the new must have its roots in 
the old, the law of habit also actively conspires. The 
boy who has been reared on a stock-farm will most 
naturally be attentive to and interested in blooded cattle 
or horses, wherever he may encounter them. He will be 
interested in pedigrees and records, and respond actively 
to all such elements in his environment ; in which a youth 
of different antecedents, as a fisher lad, would find little 
stimulus or interest. 

llie Field of the Teacher. — But heredity, habit, and the 
apperceptive law combined do not completely foreordain 
the career of the child. Aside from the potent tendency 
to individual variation, there is always room for the oper- 
ation of personal influence. Personal respect, confidence, 
and admiration, on the part of the pupil, will strongly 
dispose him to accept the interests of the teacher, whose 
greatest successes are often won through this power to 
inspire the youth with his own enthusiasms. 

How far shall we follow the special bent or lead of the 
pupil? Only so far as is necessary to capture his confi- 
dence in our sympathetic attitude towards his personality 
and secure his allegiance. We must strive to bring him, 
ultimately, to a participation in the normal interests of 
the race and community, and secure, so far as possible, a 
symmetrical development and discipline of his powers. 
We should by no means smother any natural gift; but 
neither should we, in deference to it, prematurely lose 
sight of the true ends of education. We may follow the 



HEREDITY AND ENVIRONMENT 236 

pupil's bent some distance in order that we may lead him 
aright in the end ; but the normal type must, after all, 
determine the general trend of our early tuition. Later, 
his special talents and interests should be given full play. 

Application 3. — The scliool must^ so far as possible^ 
surround the pupil with such an environment^ physical^ 
social^ ayicl spiritual, as loill seciire the realization of his 
highest possibilities. 

During school years, the school itself is a large part of 
the pupil's' environment, and often a most potent part. 
This may be seen in the young child in the kindergarten, 
who is intensely responsive to its influences; but it is 
most complete in the college life, where the student prac- 
tically lives in a world apart and is ruled almost abso- 
lutely by the college atmosphere and traditions, largely 
of the students' own making. But, in every grade of 
school, teachers and patrons should conspire to make the 
school surroundings not simply sanitary and wholesome 
but inspiring and influential in stimulating the pupils' 
intellectual and assthetic susceptibilities. School decora- 
tion and the beautifying of school grounds are therefore 
matters of the utmost importance, and should be looked 
after with the highest available degree of taste and good 
judgment, and not left, as they so often are, to accident 
and transient impulse. The library and laboratory are 
important items also, in the school environment. But 
the most vitally important factor of all is the intelligent, 
wise, and inspiring teacher. This is the central thought 
of the oft-quoted remark of President Garfield that *'a 
log with Mark Hopkins on one end and a student on the 
other" comprised the essential conditions of the educa- 
tional process. 



CHAPTER XXXIII 

THE LAW OF HABIT 

Principle III. — All activity, physical or mental, gives 
rise to certain modifications ^vliich tend to i)ersist and 
form the basis of habit. The extent and perm^anence of 
such modifications depend largely icpofi brain plasticity 
and nutrition, on the one hand, and thoughtful attention 
on the other. 

The physical basis of habit and its office in the life of 
the individual have been discussed in Chapter XXVII. 
Its relation to the work of the teacher and school 
deserves more careful attention than it commonly 
receives. Probably few teachers realize how large and 
important a part of their work consists in the endeavor to 
correct bad habits and establish good ones; though all 
have, perliaps, become conscious of the difficulty of the 
task. 

Application. — A chief fiinction of the school is the 
formation of right hahits in the early years, the forestall- 
ing or elimination of bad habits, and the strengthening 
of good habits already formed. 

Whatever in education belongs to the realm of habit 
must be attended to and made secure in the early and 
plastic years. Neglect here is fatal. Whatever is wrongly 
started will give infinite trouble in its reformation. The 
primary teacher needs to give painstaking attention to 
the physical attitudes of children, to cultivate quietude 
and poise of manner instead of the squirming, wriggling 

236 



THE LAW OF HABIT 237 

habits and imcoutli postures so often and unnecessarily 
tolerated in young pupils. Much of what belongs to good 
manners, as the lifting of the hat, modes of address, and 
personal tidiness, should be early made habitual through 
the vigilance of teacher and parent. On the intellectual 
side, such partly mechanical processes as spelling, pro- 
nunciation, the holding of the pen in writing, etc., should 
early be reduced to habit; and good habits must be rightly 
fixed at the outset or bad habits will hold the field. 

And right here is where lasting wrong is done to many 
a pupil through the lack of steady persistence on the part 
of teachers. The teacher wearies of watchfulness and 
criticism and becomes intermittent, if not wholly negli- 
gent, concerning such very important matters as the cor- 
rect position of the hand; and so the great majority of 
children leave school with a bad habit fixed upon them for 
life, a serious handicap, though the child cannot realize 
it. In like manner, the teacher tires of criticising the 
incorrect and uncouth forms of speech which the chil- 
dren learn so early on the street and playground; but 
habit never tires, and the pupil goes out into life the 
victim of his out-of-school associations and his teacher's 
indolence. 

Great harm often results from lack of watchfulness at 
the outset. The swearing habit, the cigarette habit, and 
similar vices, as a rule, gain their foothold before parents 
or teachers, have waked up to the danger. And here is 
reason why, all teachers, from the first term of school up, 
should give daily attention to the children on the play- 
ground. The teacher who takes the recess time to work 
at her desk or attend to personal matters is culpably neg- 
ligent at a point of danger. 

Important Mental Halits. — Of the important mental 
habits which the school should earnestly strive to incul- 



238 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

cate, only a few will be specifically indicated. (1) The 
lialit of tliorouylmess in whatever is undertaken is one of 
the utmost practical value. As Professor Sully has said, 
the boy should be early trained to thoroughness even in 
so simple an action as the hanging up of his hat. What 
we call slovenliness is chiefly due to the slipshod habit of 
incompletion. "Whatever is worth doing at all is worth 
doing well" is a maxim which ought to be stamped into 
the very brain of every child. 

(2) Few habits are of greater practical value than that 
of exact and clean-cut articulation. It is, indeed, only one 
form of the habit of thoroughness; but its reflex effect is 
especially important. Muddy, confused articulation is 
the fitting accompaniment — an index, if not frequently 
the cause — of slovenly and muddy thinking. And it is 
easier to teach correct articulation to a child than to an 
adult; "a stitch in time saves nine." 

(3) To every one who would lead anything but the mere 
animal life, the habit of attentio7i, of prolonged mental 
concentration upon whatever is allowed to seriously 
occupy the field of consciousness, is vitally important. 
Some children seem always to retain the habit of mentally 
flitting from point to point, like sparrows in a city street; 
while others live chiefly in a sort of mental mist, in which 
nothing gets focused or clearly defined. 

(4) A fourth general habit of mind is so valuable that 
mention of it cannot be justifiably omitted, the habit of 
watching out for and appreciating the beautiful in nature 
and art as it daily presents itself to our eyes. It is largely 
through the neglect of teachers that so many people go 
through life deaf and blind to the harmonies of the mate- 
rial universe. "Having eyes, they see not; having ears 
they hear not, neither do they understand." 

There is no exaggeration, but profound wisdom, in the 



THE LAW OF HABIT 239 

words of Professor James, ''''The great tiling in all educa- 
tion is to make our nervous system our ally instead of our 
enemy. For this we must make automatic and habitual, 
as early as possible, as many useful actions as we can, 
and guard against the growing into ways that are likely 
to be disadvantageous to us as we should guard against 
the plague." The nervous system of the drunkard and 
opium-eater is the cruelest tyrant; the nerves of the right 
and self-controlled liver become his safeguard against evil. 
"If youth could only know!" It seems, on the surface at 
least, a mysterious dispensation of "Nature," that the 
time for forming safe, protective habits, or evil, destruc- 
tive ones, is mainly confined to the period when youth- 
ful waywardness is at its highest, while discretion 
and prudence are as yet undeveloped. "Experience is a 
good teacher," but a dear one and often a fatally tardy 
one. 

The Teacher'' s Duty and Danger. — There is perhaps no 
part of their duty in which teachers fall so far short of 
real effectiveness as in this matter of the correction and 
inculcation of habits. This is a work demanding the 
utmost patience and persistence; and teachers too easily 
weary and relax effort. And their worst mistake consists, 
often, in their uneven, wobbling treatment, urgent one 
day and negligent the next. 

The inculcation of good habits should be prosecuted 
steadily, perseveringly, and intelligently, even though the 
results accomplished in the way of "book-learning" 
should thereby be somewhat diminished. The successful 
establishment of even the four mental habits above named 
would be in itself a genuine education, a preparation for 
self -education equal in value to all else that is done in 
the schoolroom. But the work of habit-forming must 
be entered upon early, and the danger is that the teacher 



240 THE THEORY OF TEACHIN"G 

will not wake up to its importance till the field is sown 
with the tares of slovenliness and indolence. 

Professoi' Jameses Maxims. — In Professor James^'s admi- 
rable chapter on Habit, with which every teacher should 
be familiar, he formulates certain maxims of great value: 

(1) "In the acquisition of a new habit, or the leaving 
off of an old one, we must take care to launch ourselves 
with as strong and decided an initiative as possible." 

(2) '''Never suffer an exceptioyi to occur till the neiv hahit 
is securely rooted in your life.^^ 

(3) "Seize the very first possible opportunity to act 
on every resolution you make, and on every emotional 
prompting you may experience in the direction of the 
habits you aspire to gain." 

(4) ''''Keep the faculty of effort alive in you by a little 
gratuitous exercise every day. That is, be systematically 
ascetic or heroic in little, unnecessary points; do every 
day or two something for no other reason than that you 
would rather not do it, so that when the hour of dire need 
draws nigh it may find you not unnerved and untrained 
to stand the test." 

These maxims are framed for the youth, or adult, who 
is roused to take himself in hand by way of reformation 
or improvement ; but they are suggestive to the teacher of 
children as well. The first step is to arouse, at the out- 
set, a motive strong enough to excite the necessary effort ; 
the next step is a prolonged repetition of the act under 
proper conditions and without the nullifying effect of 
lapses and interruptions. And here the vigilance and 
patient persistence of the teacher counts for much. The 
child will never fix the right manner of holding his pen, 
for instance, who is nagged one day and neglected the 
next. 



CHAPTER XXXIV 

THE LAW OF SELF-ACTIVITY 

Principle IV. — The mind develops o?ily through its 
self-activitij. Knoidedge and discipline cannot be in- 
herited or transferred from one mind to another^ hut must 
he acquired and developed hy one's own activity. Any 
power of the mind grows strong by the activity of that 
power against appropriate resistance. 

We have conceived of education, from the oatset, as 
development, the unfolding and bringing into fruitful 
activity of the latent powers and possibilities of the soul. 
The thought now emphasized is that this development 
must proceed from within, by the free, voluntary effort 
of the individual, and cannot be wrought out for it or 
imposed upon it by any foreign, outside agency. The 
mind is an organism and, like a plant, it must seek its 
own nourishment. All that the educator, or gardener, 
can do is to supply favorable conditions. But as the 
physical organism requires not only food but exercise, 
and as exercise always implies some resistance to be over- 
come, so the mind increases in power only by the overcom- 
ing of resistance, the surmounting of obstacles. The 
lifting of straws would never develop strong, or facile, 
muscles. The kind and amount of resistance to be set 
before the would-be athlete is a principal problem of his 
trainer. So, the making of a course of study which shall 
present to the pupil the most' suitable and fruitful diffi- 
culties and discipline is a chief problem of the educator. 

Moreover, the pupil who is trained to intellectual 

241 



242 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

dependence loses much of the best of life. The pleasures 
of pursuit, the sense of personal power, and the joy of 
conquest belong only to self-activity. 

Application 1. — ^^Tlie child attains to hnoiuledge not 
hy receiving it^ hut hy tahi7ig it. He instructs himself. 
TJie teacher is the guide ^ cooioerator ., and remover of 
obstructions only.'''' — Laurie. 

Pestalozzi puts this in another form of words when he 
declares that education is only "a continual benevolent 
superintendence. ' ' 

We have already met with one phase of the truth that 
knowledge cannot be transmitted from one mind to 
another, in our study of the limitations of language 
(Chapter XXIV). But it may be asked, "If this be 
true, and the child gains knowledge only by taking it, 
why not dispense with the teacher altogether? Why so 
great an outlay for schools and teachers?" This question, 
What remains for the instructor? should be a profitable 
one to any teacher who rightly answers it. It is the 
business, and the sole business, of the teacher, (1) To lay 
out the loorh. The pupil cannot guide himself through 
the maze of knowledge. He cannot observe the proper 
order and sequence of acquisition. Some one must pro- 
vide a curriculum, or course of study. This, it is true, is 
usually made by the superintendent, and the individual 
teacher has only to interpret and administer it; but if 
not, then the teacher must make it. But in the admin- 
istering of a course of study there is much to tax the 
judgment of a teacher in the descent to details, that 
apportioning of each day's task which we call the assign- 
ment of lessons. This is a part of the teacher's work, 
moreover, which is seldom done with the care and 
studious consideration which the needs of the pupil de- 
mand. 



THE LAW OF SELF-ACTIVITY 243 

(2) To supply motives. The self-taught and solitary 
student finds great difficulty in keeping himself to his 
work; a difficulty beyond the powers of most youth. 
And even under schoolroom conditions, with all the 
stimulus and suggestion of associated effort, the problem 
of keeping pupils up to their work, in persistent industry, 
is one that taxes to the full the ingenuity and force of the 
teacher. The study of school incentives, like that of 
school hygiene, belongs, properly, under the subject of 
School Management; yet a brief discussion here may not 
'be wholly amiss. 

School Incentives. — The ;motives which the teacher 
should strive to arouse and bring to bear upon the pupil 
lie, as we have seen in Chapter XXIX, in the domain of 
the feelings. But the various emotions differ in value as 
educational means. We may thus arrange a sort of 
gamut, or scale, of school incentives, or motives, (a) At 
the bottom of this scale we m.ay place, as least worthy, 
fear^ the dread of bodily pain. This was the main, often 
the sole, reliance of the old-time master. A famous 
English headmaster was asked for the secret of his suc- 
cess in getting pupils through the university examinations, 
and answered, "I have no secret; I ivhip them and they 
learn." This is the cheapest of all motives, the easiest 
to command by the muscular teacher and the first resort 
of the lazy teacher; whereas, it should be the last resort 
of the self-respecting teacher, (b) Next above this, comes 
a more refined form of fear, the fear of mental pain, as 
excited by sarcasm or unfavorable comparisons striking at 
the pride of the pupil. This may be much more cruel than 
corporal punishment. Indeed, the objection to corporal 
punishment does not lie, in every case, in its cruelty. If 
it is the most effective or available means of bringing a 
child to himself, as it sometimes may be, it is then not cruel. 



244 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

(c) Next, as higher in its degree of refinement, we may 
name the love of approbation, the approval of parent or 
teacher. Care must be taken here not to cultivate vanity 
or egotism unduly; the love of praise is sometimes a 
dangerous flame to fan. There is reason to think that 
some teachers employ praise with too little discrimination, 
while perhaps a larger number use it too sparingly. But 
there is little danger in appealing to the motive of affec- 
tion ; and many a child will apply himself faithfully from 
the desire to please the teacher whom he loves and re- 
spects, (d) Above the mere love of praise, comes the love 
of superiority and of 2:)ower, in a word, youthful ambition. 
The boy who is conscious of mental power will love to 
exercise it; the difficulty here lies with those who lack 
faith in themselves and feel the lack of power, sometimes 
mistakenly. Here encouragement and tactful effort to 
cultivate a feeling of ability to conquer difficulty is of the 
greatest value. How far the spirit of rivalry should be 
appealed to is a question for the thoughtful judgment of 
the teacher; but a spirit of healthy and fruitful emulation 
is always possible under skillful guidance. 

Other grades of the desire to excel, as the desire to 
excel one's own past and mount always higher, may well 
be recognized; but we pass to the top of our scale. 
(e) We find here two motives which the reader may exer- 
cise himself in ranking, the love of hnoivledge for its oivn 
sake, the pure joy of understanding, and the desire for 
krioioledge and discipline as a means of usefulness to 
others. Where these can be inspired or stimulated, the 
remaining work of the teacher is easy and delightful. 

(3) A Third Function of the Teacher. — It is a further 
function of the teacher to develop in the pupil the power 
of self -judgment, or self-criticism. Every man must carry 
his education to completion, after school days are over, by 



THE LAW OF SELF-ACTIVITY 245 

the aid of his social environment. For the successful 
accomplishment of this, he must have attained tne power 
of self-criticism. The self-taught man is always in danger 
of being a poorly taught man; he is in danger of "know- 
ing too many things that are not so." In order that one 
may develop this power of judging his own performance 
as to its success or failure, he must first have been sub- 
jected to external criticism, the critical judgment of others. 
As self-control must have its first beginnings in external 
(parental) control, so self-criticism must have its roots in 
external criticism ; and the teacher should be, in school 
years, the qualified and watchful vehicle of this criticism. 
He must unwearyingly yet sympathetically apply the 
measuring-rod to the performance of his disciples. 

(4) The Teacher as an Example. — Above and beyond 
the conscious work of the teacher, there lies his uncon- 
scious influence through example and personal inspiration. 
The pupil who realizes that education and study have 
made his teacher a worthy and admirable person will 
unconsciously surrender himself to the stimulating force 
which such a personality emits. And thus it is that the 
teacher should be a beautiful person, physically beautiful 
if possible, but at least and always, beautiful in manner 
and in soul. The teacher of selfish, acrid spirit or of 
crude and unsympathetic behavior must, in great measure, 
fail to accomplish the highest results, no matter how 
thorough his scholarship or how scientific his methods of 
instruction. Thus the crowning office of the teacher is 
that of inspiration through his own personality. He 
becomes in himself a motive. 

Applicatio:n" 2. — The several 'powers are developed hy 
occasioning the natural activity of each. ^''Exercise 
strengthens faculty.'''' 

This law has various aspects. It applies, first of all, to 



246 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

the development of physical powers. The leg muscles are 
strengthened by running and jumping, not by boxing; 
the arm muscles are developed by striking. The black- 
smith is not in the way to become a sprinter. Hence the 
gymnasium director seeks out the weak points of the 
bodily organism and strives by exercise to determine the 
nutrition to those parts. Mentally, the principle may be 
applied to the several faculties, as memory, imagination, 
reasoning. No amount of exercise in memorizing will 
appreciably increase the power of abstraction and gener- 
alization; and practice in deductive reasoning adds no 
power to the imagination. But the truth, or validity, of 
the law will be best apprehended if we apply it to the 
several so-called talents, or special aptitudes, as musical 
talent, talent for mathematics, for languages, or for phys- 
ical science. He who would increase his power in mathe- 
matics must exercise himself in mathematics — the study 
of language will not do it; on the other hand, the 
weakness of mathematicians in linguistic expression is 
proverbial. Again, a person of considerable native 
musical capacity may allow it to remain dormant through 
exclusive devotion to the development of other talents. 
Drawing the lines somewhat more closely, it seems to be 
recognized as pedagogical truth that patient attention to 
the study of grammatical forms and constructions adds 
little if anything to one's power of literary appreciation, 
while exercise in deductive reasoning, as in geometry, 
gives no increase of power for the inductive investigations 
of modern science, as in biology. 

The question may fairly be asked, however, *'Is there 
710 interaction? Does not the pursuit of any one study 
give a discipline of the mind as a whole which results in 
increased power for attacking any other study?" In 
answering this query, the analogy of physical exercise may 



THE LAW OF SELF-ACTIVITY 247 

again be useful. The blacksmith, hammering at his 
anvil, develops a powerful arm, out of due proportion to 
his lower limbs; but, at the same time, he improves his 
general circulation and his digestion by his labor, and 
gives his whole system a tone which idleness could not 
induce. So the student of a special subject may, by 
energetic application to it, induce habits of mental indus- 
try and close application which will serve him well when- 
ever another subject is undertaken. It is only in this 
indirect and general way that the exercise of one power 
can aid in the strengthening of another. 

The practical application of all this yields the maxim, 
A suitable variety of studies should he i^fvovided at all 
stages of the school course. Otherwise, the pupil will 
become mentally lop-sided and the ideal of harmonious 
and well-balanced development of the mind will have been 
thwarted or abandoned. The fact that a pupil is weak 
in, and therefore disinclined towards, a given subject, as 
grammar or arithmetic, so far from being a reason for 
neglecting or omitting that study, is rather, within limits, 
a reason for increased attention to it. The boy with weak 
leg muscles does not luish to run and jump, but he needs 
those forms of exercise most. But the question of how 
far and how long the effort to tone up weak powers and 
secure symmetry of development in each individual case 
should be persevered in, is one that cannot always be 
answered by general principle, or rule. 

Specialization in Studies. — A further practical problem 
arises in the matter of scholastic and professional special- 
ization. The race needs specialists, but not a world of 
specialists. And the specialist should not specialize too 
soon. The great cranes along the docks of the East 
River, whose long arms swing heavy freight from the 
holds of the ships to the wharves, must have strong 



248 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

foundations — out of sight, below the surface of the water, 
but broad and deep. They are not simply spars stuck in 
the mud of the river bed. So the specialist needs, first 
of all, an all-around foundation of general knowledge and 
discipline, or his special knowledge will be rendered use- 
less and fallacious by defect of judgment. How far 
should this general preparation be carried; how early 
should students be allowed to specialize? This is an 
important question; and it brings after it the whole ques- 
tion as to the wisdom of our tremendous trend, in this 
generation, towards special courses and elective studies. 
That discussion cannot be entered upon here at any 
length; but the present drift towards the introduction of 
*'electives" into even the secondary schools would appear 
to be going beyond the limits of wisdom or safety. It 
seems to be a good example of the American tendency to 
carry new movements to dangerous extremes. 

Application 3. — The im^piV s ineparatioyi sliould be in- 
dependent of assistance from other pupils. Thinhing is 
individual. Partnership study results in lack of concen- 
trationy of self-reliance., and of mental assimilation. 

The pupil who is true to his own interests will not 
allow a classmate to assist him in the preparation of his 
lessons. But few pupils seem to appreciate this ; they do 
not realize that in mental development, as nowhere else, 
*'every tub must stand on its own bottom"; or they lack 
the earnestness and singleness of purpose which would 
lead them to observe always the conditions of success. 
Thus we everywhere find pupils seeking assistance from 
each other. "IIow did you work this example?" 
*'How do you translate this passage?" are, in school, the 
daily appeals of the weak to the supposedly strong, made, 
strangely enough, without shame or recognition of the 
tacit confession of inferiority. Members of the same 



THE LAW OF SELF-ACTIVITY 249 

class in geometry or Latin get their heads together, 
furtively perhaps, and "pool their issues," making their 
individual contribution of guesses and experiments, with 
endless digression and waste of time and opportunity, 
under the delusion that they are "getting their lessons 
together." They fail to see that instead of really concen- 
trating their minds under the strong tension necessary to 
any increase of power they are actually preventing such 
tension and trying to substitute sociability for individual 
effort, a suicidal endeavor. 

The Folly of Fartnersliip Study. — Partnership study is, 
in fact, not study at all, but, in most cases, an illusive 
attempt to escape from the necessity for study. The 
fallacy of this attempt may find suitable illustration in 
the field of physical development. No puny youth can 
profit by the muscular exercise of another. The ansemic 
girl who needs more adequate nutrition cannot help her 
case by inducing classmates to help her eat her dinner. 
If she cannot eat it herself, she can get no possible good 
from the digestion of others. And so the self-respecting 
student's motto might well be, "Never ask any one to 
help you eat your dinner; never allow any one to help 
you get a lesson." Even if study be taken in the light 
of medicine, bitter but the least of evils, one must still 
take his own, and not seek relief hy proxy or by partner- 
ship. 

The Causes of Partnership Study. — -The unwise and 
self -deceptive practice of many pupils, above described, 
and familiar to all teachers, can be accounted for in many, 
if not most, cases by consideration of the false views 
which they have somehow absorbed of the real end and 
purpose of the recitation, due, perhaps, to the emphasis 
which is so often laid on "marks," or "standings." 
These marks seem to them to be the chief end of the 



250 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

recitation. They prepare themselves, too often, simply 
to get past the teacher, to meet his demand for answers. 
They fail to see — and the fault may have been the 
teacher's — that the real demand is for individual think- 
ing, for mental tension^ in the recitation as well as before" 
it, and not merely for correct answers. They fear to 
make mistakes or bring mistaken results and processes 
to the class-room, because mistakes cause low standings — 
failing to realize that a most fruitful mode of advance is 
hy making mistakes and fielding them out. It is really far 
better that a pupil should bring to recitation mistakes of 
his own making, than correct answers begged or borrowed 
from others, perhaps on the stairways to the recitation 
room. The moral aspect of this matter is seldom suffi- 
ciently considered by either pupil or teacher. No moral 
delinquency is felt in the oifering of borrowed results. 
And the supreme value of mental independence is as little 
considered. There is only now and then a pupil who 
feels a healthy scorn of the mental dependence and 
pauperism involved in getting assistance from fellow 
pupils. The majority fail, for some reason, to see that 
the recitation is the pupil's opportunity to prove to the 
teacher and to his classmates, and above all to himself, 
his loyalty to his calling as a student and his trustworthi- 
ness in the discharge of self-rewarding duty. 

The Virtue of Self-reliance. — Self-reliance is a chief 
virtue of the student, and he should be trained to resort 
always to his own internal resources, to use constantly 
what he already knows instead of what somebody else may 
know. Thring, in his "Theory "and Practice of Teach- 
ing," says that "a fool is one who does not use the sense 
he has got." Many teachers, to-day, would seem to be 
engaged in training up a generation of fools, under this 
definition. 



THE LAW OF SELF-ACTIVITY 251 

The question will naturally be asked, "Should the 
pupil, then, never receive assistance from any one? Will 
not this denial result in discouragement and consequent 
failure?" To this, the answer is that the teacher is set for 
the guidance and assistance of every pupil; he is the 
*^'guide, cooperator, and remover of obstructions." The 
pupil who needs more assistance than he can get in the 
recitation time should seek the teacher personally, and 
should be encouraged to do so at proper times and within 
proper limits; though some teachers go to the extreme of 
weakening pupils by too much coddling. The wisdom of 
the competent teacher will be nowhere more manifest 
than in his management of this very matter, the skillful 
direction and shaping of his suggestive assistance to indi- 
vidual students who may think themselves in need. 

Application" 4. — The recitation is for the sole henefit of 
the meiyihers of the ' class, and each member should be 
allo'wed to rea/p the benefit. The impil, not the teacher, 
should do the reciting. 

The "lecture system," handed down to us from the 
pedagogical darkness of the Middle Ages, would seem to 
be a violation of all the laws of mind when applied to any 
except adult students of already tolerably well-trained 
minds. With young pupils, the sustained and continuous 
lecture is an impossible plan ; but many teachers substi- 
tute for it a more informal and less thoroughly wrought- 
out monologue, which is scarcely less objectionable. 
They are so impatient of the pupils' slow and bungling 
effort at expression, and sometimes so full of newly 
acquired knowledge themselves, that they lack the virtue 
of mental continence, and do, themselves, the reciting 
which is the pupil's right as well as duty. This loqua- 
cious habit, which is the curse of so many classrooms, is 
almost incurable when once formed; the young teacher, 



252 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

therefore, should guard against forming it *'as he would 
guard against the plague," for it defrauds the pupil of 
his very birthright. The pupil who knows that the 
teacher will relieve him from all necessity for organizing 
his subject-matter to the end of sustained expression, 
and let him off with mere signals of assent, has little 
motive for either the preparation or the expression ; and 
without these his time is mainly lost. 

When the Teacher Should Talk. — There is a time when 
the teacher should talk, by way of supplementing or veri- 
fying the work of the class; but that is only when the 
resources of the class have been honestly exhausted. And 
even then, the help should proceed largely by way of sug- 
gestive but concise interrogation. The art of questioning 
is a great art, but not so easily acquired as the habit of 
inundating the class with talk. The familiar maxim, 
*' Never tell a child anything which you can lead him to 
find out for himself," may be too sweeping in its terms; 
but it is right in its underlying principle, "T?ie mind 
develops only through its own activity." Two things, 
therefore, are of vital importance in the teacher, namely, 
skill in questioning and patience to wait for the pupil's 
slow and feeble thought to crystallize into expression. 
The "talkee-talkee" teacher attains to neither of these 
virtues and, therefore, to no reasonable degree of success- 
ful result. It would not be unfair, in most cases, to 
measure the power and value of a teacher by the inverse 
proportion of his verbal output to that of the class in 
hand. 



CHAPTER XXXV 

THE LAW OF DEVELOPMENT 

Principle V. — The unfolding of tlie mental poiuei^s pro- 
ceeds in a definite, natural order from infancy to maturity. 
This order and sequence the educator must apprehend and 
observe in order to accomplish his ends. 

This principle, like the law of self-activity, is capable 
of application on diil'erent planes with equal truth. 
(1) To the development of the several faculties. Sensa- 
tion and perception come first. We must perceive before 
we can reproduce, and reproduce before we can imagine. 
Presentation and representation must both be in full play 
as the condition of conception. Judgment presupposes 
concepts; reasoning presupposes judgments, and deduct- 
ive reasoning is not possible till induction has furnished 
its generalizations. "Every new movement of mind pre- 
supposes all the prior movements and carries them with 
it" — in it, we might say. 

None of these activities, however, can rise high in its 
development without the supervening of those which come 
logically later. As we have seen, judgment enters into 
perception even, and all the powers are inter-related. It 
would be a serious error, therefore, to attempt to push 
the training of the perceptive faculty far to the exclusion 
of the succeeding activities Nevertheless, there is a 
blossoming time, a period of special and new-born activity, 

253 



254 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

coming on in due and natural succession, for each of 
these so-called faculties; and the teacher must take cog- 
nizance of these epochs hoth as to the content and 
method of his teaching. 

(2) To the order in which the branches of knowledge 
shall be taken up, and to the arrangement of the subject 
matter within those studies. Here we have two aspects, 

(a) the 2^sijcliological^ which takes cognizance of the laws 
of mind and the child's present stage of development, and 

(b) the logical^ which is concerned with the logical depend- 
ence and order of segments of knowledge, as of algebra to 
arithmetic, of mediaeval to ancient history, or, more 
specifically, of the later theorems in geometry to the 
earlier ones. It is by the correct application of our 
principle in these two lines that courses of study are 
properly constructed, the imperfections of our present 
courses, whatever they may be, being chiefly due to our 
imperfect knowledge of the child and the deep-lying laws 
of his normal development. Thus it is that Dr. Dewey 
and so many others are deeply dissatisfied with existing 
educational procedure. The reader is advised to read 
carefully and critically Dewey's "School and Society," in 
order to a fuller understanding of the principle under 
discussion. 

(3) The principle of development has relevance also to 
the presentation of what might be called the individual 
items of knowledge, as in the teaching of specific topics, 
or single lessons, in any field of knowledge. In this con- 
nection, certain familiar and generally accepted peda- 
gogical maxims will be considered later on. 

It may be said here that the term maxim is used in this 
book as meaning a practical rule for applying a principle. 
Principles, when formulated, state what is true. Maxims 
tell us 2vhat to do in conformity with principles. 



THE LAW OF DEVELOPMENT 255 

Application 1. — All educational means and measures 
should harmonize with this natural order of development. 
All teaching should he adapted to the cajMhility and condi- 
tion of the taught^ both in matter and method. 

It is a blind and astonishing neglect of this truth which 
characterizes the education of the Middle Ages, a neglect 
which, by the way, practically reaches down to the 
eighteenth century in its relation to childhood and early 
youth. In fact, until the days of Comenins and Rousseau, 
no real education was ever proposed for children — 
nothing more than practical training for the social rela- 
tions of the family and the community. And in this, 
civilized Europe had made little advance upon the train- 
ing of barbarous tribes. Children were not thought to be 
capable of intellectual education; and, indeed, they were 
not capable of profiting by such education as had then 
been devised, whether in the subtleties of Scholasticism or 
the classical training of the Renaissance. 

Periods of Development. — This would seem to be the 
proper place for a brief setting forth of some attempts at 
a division of the school period of life into periods, or 
zones, of development. No precise or sharply defined 
limits can be set to these periods, but they may be recog- 
nized as five in number, namely, (1) The Period of 
Infancy, extending from birth to perhaps the end of the 
fourth year. In this stage, the muscular coordinations 
are comparatively few and imperfect, though, of course, 
constantly increasing in number and perfectness. The 
mental experiences of this stage are vague and elemen- 
tary, as we have seen in Chapter V. During these years, 
the child learns to walk and talk; bub thw period, even to 
its close, is marked by helplessness and physical incompe- 
tency. It is a sort of vegetative period, in which the 
mind is largely passive and receptive, quickly responsive 



256 THE THEOKY OF TEACHING 

to outward impressions, volatile, and especially marked by 
the play of fickle and often stormy feeling, emotional 
squalls, so to speak. At this time, the nurse, the parents, 
and "Mother JS^ature" are the child's educators. 

(2) The Period of Early Childhood, reaching on to, say, 
the eighth year. The time of infantile helplessness is, in a 
measure, past; the child has greater command of his motor 
mechanism and greater confidence in his own abilities. 
He grows venturesome and more inventive in his play. 
His brain acquires greater consistency, so to speak, and 
the power of retention, as we have defined this in Chap- 
ter XVII, rapidly develops. The love of spontaneous 
activity is the most prominent characteristic. This is the 
age of the Kindergarten and the Primary School, where 
direction more skilled and more systematic than that of 
the parent may profitably be called in to supplement, and 
oftentimes rectify, the training of the home. 

(3) The Period of Later Childhood may be defined as 
extending from the end of the eighth year, roughly speak- 
ing, to the age of twelve. The child in school during 
this period is usually found in the intermediate grades, 
say from the fourth to sixth inclusive. Here the com- 
mand of language, both spoken and written, has developed 
considerably, and the pupil enters upon the course of 
book instruction. In its use of books and in the methods 
which may wisely be employed, this period differs more 
from that of early childhood than from the period which 
follows. 

(4) Youth, or the Period of Adolescence, extending 
forward to the age of physical maturity, which falls, 
perhaps, between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one, 
varying according to sex, nationality, and other condi- 
tions. The characteristics of this period have been dis- 
cussed briefly in Chapter XXXI. 



THE LAW OF DEVELOPMENT 257 

(5) The Age of Maturity, with the majority, lies beyond 
school years, and is the period of active life. To the 
student it is the college and university age. Here the 
lecture method maybe employed, if anywhere; and the 
student is able to enter upon lines of quasi-original 
investigation in the laboratory or the library. It is the 
transition period from school to professional life, and is 
usually marked by the withdrawal of restraints which 
have hitherto been needful. 

It would seem that even the dullest comprehension 
must recognize that each of these periods of development 
should receive intelligent recognition in the planning of 
courses of study and in the methods of instruction 
employed in their administration. Yet the period is not 
far remote when all recognition of the nature of child- 
hood was as yet undreamed of, and only two periods, at 
most, were recognized, those of the grammar school and 
the university. 

IMPORTANT MAXIMS 

For the application of the law of development to the 
details of educational work, as intimated on page 254, 
several important maxims have been evolved, which have 
sometimes been dignified, inaccurately, as independent 
*' principles." The first and most comprehensive of these 
is familiar to every teacher, viz. : (1) ''^All teaching should 
proceed from the hnoion to the related unknoiun.^^ 

Yet to many, it is feared, this is only a form of words; 
any effort on their part to adequately illustrate its appli- 
cation would result only in failure. A few simple illus- 
trations are" therefore offered here. The first effort should 
always be to find points of contact, to discover what 
images, or ideas, already within the child's experience can 
be drawn upon in the construction of the new ideas or 



258 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

judgments. If I wish to give a child who has never seen 
a swan, for instance, an idea of what the word stands for, 
I must begin, by questions, to search his mind for the 
needful materials. **Have you ever seen a gander?" If 
so, I may proceed to modify the image thus evoked by 
stating in what respects swans differ from ganders. If 
the child has never seen a goose, then I must make 
further trial to discover the "related unknown" in his 
experience. "Have you ever seen a duck? A big, white 
duck?" and so on. In like manner, if I would develop 
the idea of a magnolia tree, I must begin with the appeal 
to the child's experience, "Have you ever seen an India- 
rubber tree (as a house plant)?" If not, a hickory tree 
may serve. For giving an idea of the magnolia blossom, 
water-lilies may serve as the starting-point around which 
to gather, by discrimination and assimilation, the proper 
elements. 

If it be asked, AVhy should we always proceed from the 
known to the unknown? the answer is, "Because we 
7mtst; the human mind is "built that way," and we have 
no alternative. Teachers who attempt to disregard this 
rule simply waste their time. The lamentable thing is 
that they do it so unconsciously. 

(2) In all teacliing^ jjroceed from the concrete to the 
abstract. — Here, again, every teacher knows this maxim 
as a form of words; but many would be nonplused if 
asked to define the terms "abstract" and "concrete." 
Concrete does not mean material. A pear tree or a 
hammer is a concrete object; but so is a mental image or 
a burst of anger. We talk about "concrete examples," 
but all examples are concrete. Concrete means indi' 
vidual^ particular; while abstract means general. An 
"abstract idea" is a generalized idea. "In the abstract" 
means in general^ as opposed to m particular. It may be 



THE LAW OF DEVELOPMENT 259 

conceded that the philosopher can drav/ a distinction 
between abstract and general; but to the lay mind the 
distinction does not exist. To the teacher, the terms are 
convertible. 

The concrete belongs to perception first of all, and 
afterwards to memory and imagination; the abstract 
belongs to conception and reasoning. Pestalozzi fore- 
shadowed this maxim when he said, *'It is a chief business 
of education to pass from distinctly perceived individual 
notions to clear general notions," and Comenius realized 
the same truth long before. This maxim is, thus, the 
same thing as "From the particular to the general." 

For illustration, the concept li7ie is a pure abstraction, 
purely subjective; it is derived by abstraction, from visible 
marks. The teacher must begin with marks on a slate or 
blackboard, the ruling on writing paper, etc., and men- 
tally eliminate the element of breadth and consequent 
visibility. Parallel and meridian are highly abstract 
concepts. North and south, east and west lines are only 
one degree less so. The child must begin with the con- 
crete, as north and south fences, streets, etc. The child 
may observe a north and south wire fence, imagine it 
reduced to a single wire, imagine the wire extended 
around the globe, and then imagine it reduced to an 
invisible fineness. He gains his idea of governmerit, for 
another example, from concrete manifestations of control 
which demand his obedience, first, to his parents, then, 
successively, to his teacher, the policeman, the regulations 
of the postoffice and the public parks, and, finally, the 
tax collector. From these varied contacts, he abstracts 
gradually his idea of government in general. 

(3) In all teaching^ proceed from the simple to the com- 
plex. — More or less confusion of mind exists among 
teachers with respect to the meaning of the term 



260 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

''simple." We take it to mean the easy^ contrasting 
simple with difficult; but what constitutes difficulty in 
learning? The child may call a long lesson "hard," or 
one which involves new ideas. But we shall do well to 
follow the wording of the maxim, and regard complexity 
as the fundamental factor of the difficult, and analysis as 
the instrument for resolving difficulty into simplicity. 

The pupil who would comprehend complex sentences 
must first understand clearly the nature of the simple 
sentence. If he would "see through" a complicated 
machine, as a rotary printing press, he must first be 
acquainted with the elementary "powers" of mechanics, 
the lever, cam, wheel and axle, etc. Knowing these, he 
must synthesize them into the machine. The savage, 
before he can at all comprehend what a library is, must 
arrive at an intelligent conception of a printed page, or, 
indeed, a written ivord. That symbol is the "simple" 
from which he must start to reach the complex idea of a 
library, or of literature; and the road is long. 

A Further Important Maxim. — But, often, the child 
encounters the complex before he is ready for it, before 
he knows the simple which underlies it, and is baffled by 
it. Then his only course is, by analysis, to work back to 
the simple elements and master them one by one. The 
necessity for this has doubtless given birth to the maxim, 
^^ One thing at a time^^^ which means, so far as it has any 
validity, that the elements of a complex must be mastered 
successively and not simultaneously, as in the example 
of the printing press given above. Another important 
maxim, generally obeyed in construction of text-books, 
but less familiar to teachers at large, may Avell enough 
be appended here; though its relation to Principle V 
may not be so obvious as with the preceding maxims, 
namely; 



THE LAW OF DEVELOPMENT 2(31 

'''' Proceed from, the unqualified to the qualificd.^^ That 
is, make the general rule, or law, thoroughly familiar 
before attempting to deal with its exceptions. An excel- 
lent illustration may be found in the proper teaching of 
the rules of spelling. Many teachers make the mistake 
of plunging the pupil at once into confusing exceptions, 
before the rule is clearly held and applied. No wonder 
the pupil comes to distrust the value of such rules, when 
he has been thus mistaught. An elaborate example may 
also be seen in the old Latin Grammar (e.g. Andrews & 
Stoddard) with the "rule" in coarse print and its array 
of "remarks" in fine print. And there was a day when 
pupils were compelled to memorize those uncomprehended 
pages verbatim, without waiting for the rule to be grasped, 
through the concrete, with any degree of intelligence or 
familiarity. 

For simpler examples, with young children, we do well 
to teach them at first that the earth is a sphere, without 
any qualification, and bring forward the flattening of the 
poles at a later stage. In fact, we usually bring it for- 
ward so prematurely that the child's last condition is 
worse than his first; and he goes through life with an 
exaggeration which is farther from the truth than unqual- 
ified sphericity. Again, we properly teach him that the 
sun rises in the east, and leave to a later time the truth 
that it rises exactly in the east only twice a year. In 
teaching civil government, we teach the three departments, 
legislative, executive, and judicial, under unqualified 
definitions at first, and leave their inter-relations and 
mutual limitations to be added after the fundamental 
distinctions have become clear and familiar. We cannot 
teach the whole truth at once; and the pupil must, in a 
sense, learn some things which he will have to unlearn, 
or learn differently, later on. 



262 THE THEORY OF TEACHIJ^G 

Application^ 2. — ^^ Appeal to the instincts as they ri2}en: 
strike while the iron is hot.'''' 

As has been said already (Chapter XXVIII), each 
instinct has its blossoming time, when it ceases to lie 
dormant, and comes into activity often somewhat sud- 
denly. If the impulse is not given scope and opportunity 
for expression during this time of pristine activity, it may 
be suppressed and die out altogether. Thus there comes 
a day when the infant is internally moved to walk and he 
begins walking. No amount of parental urgency or sug- 
gestion has sufficed to hasten that effort; but when the 
time has come, all that the child needs is opportunity and 
time to perfect, by practice, the requisite muscular coor- 
dinations. 

Similarly with the act of talking. When the impulse 
to talk blossoms out, the effort begins and not before, no 
matter how great the maternal impatience. 

The boy who discovers an impulse to use tools, for 
instance, should be indulged and provided promptly with 
means for gratifying bis desire to "tinker," nor should 
he be left without needed assistance and direction. So 
with the instinct to make collections, of postage stamps 
even. The value lies not in the resulting collection, but 
in the strengthening of what may develop into a true 
scientific interest. 

Every child in a civilized environment develops at an 
early age the desire to read for himself. The definite 
appearance of this desire is the "psychological moment" 
for commencing the process of teaching him to read. If 
neglected, a period of indifference may follow, when the 
work may be much more difficult for all concerned. The 
recent fad of holding children back from school attend- 
ance till they are seven or eight years of age has doubtless 
resulted in harm, in many cases, through neglect of this 



THE LAW OF DEVELOPMENT 263 

principle. The child passes the moment of desire and 
"gets out of the notion" of going to school. "Strike 
while the iron is hot" is an adage which has significance 
to the educator in many relations. 



CHAPTER XXXVI 



THE LAW OF INTEREST 



Principle VI. — Attention, the indispensaMe condition of 
all mastery, follows the lead of interest and is steadied and 
given purpose hy it. Vohmtary attention sets the mind to 
the performance of a given mental task; hut involuntary 
attention holds it to the work. 

The concentration of mental activity is a paramount 
condition of acquiring knowledge or skill. No mental 
experience that does not command attention leaves any 
permanent, usable result. Fickleness of attention is 
natural to the young and immature, bnt in older persons 
it is a sure sign of weakness and should receive careful 
attention. With all pupils, and at all times, the great 
task of the instructor is that of securing proper attention 
to the matter of instruction. The activity of the mind, at 
any moment, is exercised in the direction of its dominating 
interest, immediate or remote; therefore teaching cannot 
be successful in the highest degree unless the interest of 
the learner centers in the subject under consideration. 
A chief problem of the teacher is therefore the problem 
of interest. 

"Since self-activity is the basis of development, willing 
the source of self -activity, and interest the most powerful 
motive to willing, it is clear that the quantity and quality 
of development will largely depend on the force and 
nature of the interests which affect the individual" (Hol- 
man, Education, p. 122). Says the same writer, "Inter- 

264 



THE LAW OF INTEREST 265 

est is both a cause and an effect of knowledge. The 
original interests urge us on to acquire knowledge, and 
when we have obtained it, there is generally a desire to 
obtain more " Interest is an end in itself; it is at once 
a satisfaction and a desire; it grows by what it feeds on. 
And so it is a mere matter of economy that the teacher 
shall strive to arouse and sustain interest in all that he 
feels it necessary or profitable to impart. 

From Herbart, the great apostle of interest, we have 
the division of interests into two classes, those connected 
with knowing, interest in the objective world, and those 
connected with sympathy, interest in the subjective expe- 
riences of others. The interests connected with knowing 
may be again classified as (a) the empirical, the interest 
which one has in experiences as such, in the phenomena 
which surround him; (b) the speculative interest, our 
desire to appreliend and comprehend relations, order, 
cause, law, system; and (c) the a^stlietic interest, the 
attraction and impulse of beauty in all its aspects and 
forms. All these interests have incalculable value, and 
all, in turn, should be utilized and played upon by the 
successful teacher. Nor are the sympathetic interests to 
be overlooked or neglected. They also may be discrimi- 
nated as (a) the human interest, a sympathetic impulse 
towards other human beings as such, (b) the social inter- 
est, the feelings of desire and obligation which bind us 
together as members of a community; and (c) the relig- 
ions interest, which leads us to seek for an understanding 
of our true relation to the Higher Power whence all this 
world proceeds. It is only through the due stimulation 
and cultivation of these interests that we can hope to 
attain that ultimate end of true education, the realization 
of worthy character. 

It has been pertinently said that a chief end of educa- 



266 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

tion is the multiplication of interests, that is, the develop- 
ment of interest in all the aspects of the universe and all 
phases of life, individual or social. All this is implied in 
the ideal of complete living. Many-sided interests mean 
breadth and not narrowness of life. It is the teacher's 
blessed privilege to be continually widening the mental hori- 
zon of the child by the awakening of manifold interests. 

Application 1. — ''^Interest is the mother of attention^ 
attention is the mother of knotvledge; if yon, wotdd tvifi the 
daughter^ make sure of the mother and gravid mother.'''' 

— Joseph Cook. 

Interest, as we have seen in Chapter XVI, is feeling, 
any form of feeling which calls forth the effort of atten- 
tion. It is aroused by a proper relating of the novel and 
the familiar. Its importance as the internal stimulus to 
mental exertion is perhaps sufficiently appreciated; the 
difficulty lies in its utilization. Probably no tyro ever left 
home to enter upon the work of teaching without receiv- 
ing from some kind mentor the injnnction, "You must 
make your work interesting"; but who ever received, at 
the same time, any usable advice as to how to make it 
interesting? And yet that is a matter which ought not 
to be left in every case for individual and experimental 
discovery. 

A common mistake is made in not realizing that the 
effective interest must center in the subject studied and 
not in the manner of the teacher. Pupils are, doubtless, 
often interested and amused by the "performances" of 
the teacher, but such interest tends to divert and distract 
rather than to energize the mind. The pupil must, 
somehow, be led to forget the teacher and himself in the 
work, in the topic and the play of his understanding 
upon it. A few practical suggestions are offered in 
answer to the question. How interest pupils in the work? 



THE LAW OF INTEREST 267 

(1) Mahe the worh suitaUe. This applies both to the 
matter and the method of presentation. Nothing will 
more surely destroy interest and discourage exertion than 
the presentation of matter of such a sort that the pupil 
cannot assimilate it by any effort, or by a method not 
suited to his stage of development. The Epistle to the 
Hebrews, intensely interesting to the theologian, could 
by no possibility enlist the interest of the infant class; 
but to attempt its use with them would be little more 
absurd than the practice, not long obsolete, of cramming 
boys with all the detail of the Latin Grammar before they 
knew any Latin. These extreme examples, however, are 
not without counterpart in some modern teaching. 

(2) Mahe the ivorh as concrete as possible. This is, in 
fact, only one way of making work suitable. But no 
student ever gets beyond the need of concrete exemplifi- 
cation, not even the university student of psychology. 
What the pupil can find individual examples of will more 
surely interest him than that which is as yet veiled under 
abstractions, simply because it is intelligible. When the 
facts are clearly apprehended, then he will be interested 
in generalizations. "From the concrete to the abstract" 
is a law of interest. The concrete example which is not 
fully comprehended is a challenge to analysis and the 
effort of comprehension and classification. 

(3) Have enthusiasm yourself. This might be called 
the Law of Emotional Contagion. The contagiousness of 
feeling is a matter familiar to every observant person ; and 
the importance of this principle in the schoolroom cannot 
be exaggerated. The teacher who "hates children," 
teaches only for the hire, and has no enthusiasm in her 
daily work, is the most dismal and deplorable of failures, 
no matter how long she may succeed in "holding her 
job"; while even the "schoolroom crank," who has a 



268 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

live enthusiasm in some line of study, whether it be 
"bugs" or poetry, will be almost certain to stimulate his 
pupils to active effort in that direction. And one condi- 
tion of this enthusiasm on the part of the teacher is a 
thorough acquaintance with the subjects taught. The 
specialist, with all his narrowness, has at least this 
advantage m teaching, that he is an enthusiast. And 
the teacher who cannot develop a contagious interest in 
the subjects he teaches, should turn without delay to 
stenography or to life insurance, "the bone-yard of school- 
masters." 

(4) Lead tJie impil to discover new relations not hefore 
suspected. This is the principle of intellectual surprise. 
Any one who finds a new and deeper stratum of meaning 
in what he had thought himself already to have appre- 
hended, or who newly discovers a relationship of which he 
was previously oblivions, feels a glow of satisfaction which 
is a wholesome stimulus to further exertion. The joy of 
insight invigorates the mind and makes it eager for larger 
conquest. Herein is the peculiar advantage and oppor- 
tunity of the teacher of Reading in the grammar school 
or of Literature in the secondary school. 

(5) Encourage persistent application as a condition of 
victory. We should never forget that attention may 
become the mother of interest. "All beginnings are 
difficult"; but the pupil who can "hold his face to the 
grindstone" tenaciously will, after a short time, begin to 
feel the grit of interest take hold and cut away the 
obstructive dullness. The first chapters of a novel, 
even, as with those of Charles Dickens, require persist- 
ence ; we must dig through them, and the reward may be 
a consuming interest later on. As we are often reminded, 
one object of education is to develop the power of over- 
coming difficulties. Asa means to this, the pupil must 



THE LAW OF INTEREST 269 

be assisted in every wise way to gain the ability to 
grapple with the uninteresting for the sake of future 
rewards. But this really means regard for remote inter- 
ests of moment; and the genius of the teacher will find a 
worthy field of exercise in this direction of helping the 
pupil to rightly apprehend and appreciate the importance 
and yalue of these remote interests which are the basis of 
voluntary attention. 

Application 2. — The mind acquires more readily and 
permanently under the stimulus of ijleasurahle feeling. 

As applied simply to the depth of impression which is 
the basis of retention, and so of memory, it may be 
questioned whether pleasure has any advantage over pain. 
The Siberian surveyors who secure public remembrance of 
their landmarks, which are only mounds of earth, by 
gathering all the boys of the nearest hamlet and flogging 
them soundly, each in turn, upon the mound, have some- 
how fallen upon a sound ps}chological principle. We 
doubtless remember intense suffering under peculiar cir- 
cumstances more dearly and with firmer associations than 
we do great pleasures. And pain has unquestionably a 
function in education. Socrates perceived this when he 
called it a "gadfly." The pain of temporary failure is 
often the most effective stimulus to greater exertion. 

But the dislike of pain is not a healthy or reliable 
means of stimulating continuous effort. The power of 
attraction is safer and more manageable than that of 
repulsion. 

However, there need be, and should be, no effort after 
intense degrees of pleasure; they are too intoxicating, and 
interfere, as we have seen in Chapter XXII, with the suc- 
cessful exercise of judgment. The desirable condition is 
that of a gentle or moderate pleasure, gradually increas- 
ing. Even a slight prospective increase of satisfaction 



270 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

keeps us reaching for it, whereas a paroxysm of pleasure 
soon exhausts itself. And the pleasure which should be 
sought is always of the nature which we have discussed 
under "The Intellectual Sentiment," in Chapter XXIX. 
It is the teacher's daily duty to stimulate and cultivate 
these feelings connected with the pursuit and the posses- 
sion of knowledge, iucluding their negative side, the pains 
of ignorance. 



CHAPTER XXXVII 

THE LAW OF APPERCEPTION 

' Principle VII. — Development^ inteUectiial^ emotional^ 
and volitio?iaI, proceeds through the interpretation of new 
experiences in the light of those past experiences lohich have 
heeii assimilated. 

Our mental present is dominated inexorably by our 
mental past, especially those parts of our past which 
impressed us forcibly and so commanded our attention. 
These past impressions have become organized into a 
system of ideas which, so to speak, lay hold upon all new 
experiences and assign to them a place among tiiemselves, 
incorporate them into the system. This domination of 
our past over our present is evidently a most important 
principle to the educator. Under the name of Appercep- 
tion, it has been made the cornerstone of the Herbartian 
pedagogy. 

What Apperception Is. — -Apperception is by no means a 
distinct and elementary type of mental activity, like those 
we have considered in Part II, but is, rather, a compound 
of activities, involving more especially those of Retention, 
Association, and Imagination. It is through these proc- 
esses that our past experience exerts its rule over all new 
experiences. In another way of looking at it, appercep- 
tion is the common element in perception, conception, 
and judgment, namely, the relating activity. Appercep- 
tion is interpretation. But interpretation is not a simple 
process; it involves, as said above, retention, association, 

271 



272 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

and imagination. The particular group of ideas into 
which the new idea, or experience, is received and assimi- 
lated is called the apperceiving group (Apperceptions- 
masse). Its character is determined, of course, by the 
nature and amount of past experience. 

Apperce2)fioii III nst rated. — For illustrations of apper- 
ceptive activity, let us suppose a wild Indian to be con- 
fronted with a variety of pictures. Some of them he 
could easily interpret in the light of his own life experi- 
ence, others he would misinterpret, while many he could 
not interpret at all. They would have no significance, for 
lack of any apperceiving group to which they could be 
assigned. 

Mr, Eoper's excellent little book on Apperception takes 
for its text the case of a city child who saw a pot of ferns 
for the first time, and called them *'a pot of green feath- 
ers.'* Miss Edgeworth's anecdote of the party of Esqui- 
maux who were brought to London furnishes a case in 
point. Their chaperons had anticipated great pleasure 
in their surprise at all the strange sights of the city, but 
were doomed to disappointment. The poor strangers were 
only bewildered, and the only thing which excited real 
interest was a saddler's shop, this being something which 
they could relate to their ov:n experience; and, at the end 
of the day.^ their only comment was, "Too much men, 
too much noise, too much houses, too much everything." 
A mass of unassimilated, confused, and therefore weari- 
some, impressions was all that had resulted. 

The same object will be apperceived differently by 
different persons according to the nature of their previous 
experience and habits of thinking. A pine tree, for 
instance, will be apprehended in very different ways by a 
lumberman, a botanist, a landscape gardener, or a poet* 
The tree will have a different meaning to each. So a 



THE LAW OF APPERCEPTION 273 

poem or a musical composition contains for each of us 
only so much as our past development enables us to see 
and appreciate. We find in a play of Shakespeare, as has 
been well said, just what we ourselves bring to it. 

The principle of apperception may thus be looked upon 
as affecting our mental development in two contrasted 
ways, as positive or negative. From one point of view, it 
seems to be restrictive ; our present is limited by it ; we 
are in bondage to our past. On the other hand, we may 
say with equal force that our past is the indispensable 
servant of the present, furnishing the illumination which 
alone can make it intelligible. It is at once servant and 
master; the indispensable servant is always master. 

Application" 1. — All teaching involves the proper relat- 
ing of new material of knowledge to luhat the mind has 
already appropriated. To the new hy means of the old is 
the law of learning; and the same is true of emotional and 
volitional development. 

Understanding comes by relating the new and unfamiliar 
to the old and familiar. Each new relation established 
enhances the value of both old and new ; the old enables 
us to interpret the new, and the new enriches the old. 
An isolated fact or an isolated lesson has no value for the 
development of the mind. 

This proper relating of new knowledge to old involves 
the use of what we have called the higher laws of associa- 
tion, the laws of similarity and cause and effect. It calls 
for a much closer correlation of the different studies, or 
branches of knowledge, than is usually found in schools. 
The present drift towards extreme specialization on the 
part of instructors often results in an artificial and injuri- 
ous separation of studies, a sort of pigeon-holing of the 
items of knowledge in separate compartments, which is as 
futile as it is unpsychological. The teacher of natural 



274 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

science declines to mend the pupil's deficiencies in mathe- 
matics, the teacher of history "has no time to teach geog- 
raphy," and all except the language teacher decline to 
take any responsibility for the pupil's power of accurate 
expression. Each is so hot after his particular specialty 
that he forgets the solidarity of knowledge, and imagines 
that it may run in parallel and separate streams. 

Whereas the demands of every teacher should branch 
widely out to the right and left from the main line which 
he is pursuing. The teacher of history should be an 
examiner in geography, the teacher of geography should bo 
a teacher of physics, the teacher of literature should be 
a teacher of everything else, and every teacher should 
be a teacher of language. The teacher of any subject 
will lose no time but increase the permanent usabi? result 
of his teaching by knitting his subject on to, and into, 
every other subject in any way related to it. "United 
we stand, divided we fall" is also true of the various 
items of knowledge. 

But within each branch, or science, the principle holds 
with compelling force; and here, again, the maxim, 
"Proceed from the known to the related unknown" finds 
its field and its justification. 

Applicatiojt 2. — A hnoivledge of the contents of the 
learner^ 8 mind relative to the subject to he presented^ and 
a clear apprehe7isio7i of the hnowledge necessary to its mas- 
tery, is essential to successful teacliing. 

Much of the teacher's hard and patient labor is lost or 
largely discounted from the fact that he has built on 
sandy foundations. The danger lies in taking too much 
for granted and assuming that the pupil already has the 
basal ideas on which the superstructure is to rest, and 
without which the words of instruction are fruitless and 
illusory. Here we have need to remember what was set 



THE LAW OF APPERCEPTIOJST 275 

forth in Chapter XXIV on the limitations of language. 
We can communicata ideas only so far as the raw mate- 
rials already exist in the mind of the learner. And the 
logical dependence of the later steps in each science upon 
the earlier also relentlessly demands that the teacher 
shall, in each lesson, know wherewith and whereon he 
has to build. He must know the exact past result of the 
pupil's study and instruction before he can proceed safely 
and intelligently. 

But many teachers with good intentions err at this 
point. Finding the pupil unprepared to receive and 
assimilate the designed instruction, they put him back to 
the beginning of the book, for instance, and drag him 
again over the whole threadbare detail, instead of seeking, 
by proper testing, for the missing links, or gaps, in the 
pupil's past work, and proceeding to clear up the hazy 
concepts which have served as stumbling-stones in his 
mazy path. How, then, shall the teacher discover the 
real situation and thus know where to begin? Clearly by 
tentative questioning and a judicious recall of knowledge 
which has fallen out of the foreground of consciousness. 
The mind must be got ready for what is coming by bring- 
ing into the present consciousness a full apperceiving 
group, as much as possible of the system of ideas into 
which the new thought should be incorporated. And the 
skill of the teacher will be shown in his ability to do this 
on each needful occasion without waste of time in desul- 
tory or misdirected questioning. 

While it is thus necessary for the teacher to discover 
the actual state of the pupil's knowledge with regard to 
the subject of instruction, it is equally important that he 
should clearly understand the subject itself, that he 
should comprehend just what is involved in its mastery. 
So he must always confront himself with two questions, 



276 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

(1) What does this pupil already know? and (2) What still 
remains for him to grasp in order to a clear comprehen- 
sion of this subject? Otherwise, he is liable to either of 
two errors. He may assume too much as already under- 
stood, and so build on false foundations; or he may credit 
the pupil with too little, and so be plying him with a 
*' sucked orange." **What are you learning at school?" 
said one to a schoolboy. "What I allers knowed," was 
the disgusted answer. Nothing can be more productive 
of utter indifference than teaching that which need not 
be taught. 

The considerations here adduced lead us on to 

Application 3. — The teacher should see that luhatever 
capital the child has on hand is put to use. The net bal- 
ance of to-day should lecome the live capital of to-morrow. 

Unused knowledge is knowledge dead or dying. All 
knowledge which any of us can really claim to possess is 
that which has been turned over and over in use, use so 
frequent as to prevent decay. We are stupidly wasteful if 
we allow knowledge "to rust unburnished, not to shine in 
use"; and here again we may quote Thring's pithy 
apothegm, "A fool is one who does not use the sense he 
has got." 

And so to the pupil wo must continually, in some way, 
be preaching this homily: "Always be asking yourself in 
the face of any piece of knowledge, * Where have I met 
this idea before? AYhat do I already know to which this 
apparently new fact, or principle, bears any relation?' 
Learning cannot be plastered on to you and power is not 
a gift ; it must grow in you, out of what is already there, 
and you have got to work for it all the time; the teacher 
can only help you, and I shall be happy if I escape doing 
you harm." 



CHAPTER XXXVIII 

THE LAW OF PRESENTATION 

Principle VIII. — The original data of the mind, the raw 
materials on tvhich all the intellectual poivers must exercise 
themselves, come into consciousness through sense activity. 
The advance to rich images and concepts is through clear 
and abundant percepts. 

In the two preceding lessons, we have emphasized the 
dependence of the mind's present upon its past. This 
may naturally turn our thought back to the foundations 
of mental life, the acquisition of the original materials 
out of which the fully developed and complex conscious- 
ness of the educated man must arise. Comenius, the 
great educational reformer of the seventeenth century, 
gave lasting currency to the apothegm, Nihil est in intel- 
lectu quod non prius in sensu, "There is nothing in the 
mind which was not first in the senses." This declara- 
tion, true in an important sense, has been more often 
quoted than practically elucidated or applied. 

Application 1. — '■''In early years, let there he no inter- 
ference ivith the freedom of sensation, hut rather encourage 
contact with all forms of existence, and proinote the natu- 
ral activity of the child in every direction.'''' — Laurie. 

The vital relation of sense activity to all other mental 
operations is so evident as to need little argument or dis- 
cussion. As it is essential to the child's physical develop- 
ment, and the development of volitional control, that he 
shall have great freedom and variety of muscular activity 
in early years, so likewise is great freedom and variety of 

277 



278 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

sensation essential to the culture of his knowing powers. 
It is much to be desired that parents and teachers might 
have a clear realization of this, and so of the value to the 
child's mental life of a wide sense experience. This 
would include a recognition of the importance to the 
child's education of travel — country children to the city 
and city children to the country — of freedom in parks 
and in the woods, of attendance at fairs and visits to 
factories and markets. A World's Fair is an event of 
immense permanent value, educationally, to every child 
or youth who is privileged to come in contact with it. 
Indeed, it may be questioned whether the greatest use, 
after all, of such displays is not in their educational value 
to the young. 

Here, too, we find a strong argument for kindergarten 
exercises, manual training, school gardens, nature study, 
and school excursions, as all tending to widen the range 
of early sense activity, and thus to broaden the founda- 
tions of the child's future mental life. 

Application 2. — The primary ideas in all hranches of 
hnoivledge must he taught objectively in all grades of school. 

In our discussion of the place of Inductive Method 
(Chapter XXVI), we have already approached this truth. 
By "primary" ideas is meant those fundamental ideas 
which lie at the foundation of each science, and which 
must be developed in conformity with the maxim, "From 
the concrete to the abstract. " The elaborate equipment 
of modern universities in the way of cabinets and labora- 
tories gives evidence of the general acceptance of this 
doctrine in even the highest grades of instruction. 

Application 3. — Give the idea before theterin and make 
the connection sure. If the term is given first., make it the 
starting point for the development of the idea, ayid take care 
that the association is firmly fixed. 



THE LAW OF PRESENTATION^ 279 

This maxim has often been advanced in the unqualified 
form, "Always give the idea before the term"; but the 
actual experience of children in learning hardly justifies 
us in making this an absolute rule. Two things only are 
essential, possession of the idea and a firm association of 
this with the word. If these are secured, it does not so 
much matter in what order. Young children, in the 
home, are continually hearing new words, whose meaning 
they insistently seek; but they never use the word until 
they can attach some meaning to it. But the curiosity 
which is the salvation of young children seems largely to 
evaporate after their entrance into school, for some reason 
that ought to be better understood, and they become con- 
tent to handle words without clear meanings. And this 
is the fatal thing. The principal reason, perhaps, for giv- 
ing the idea before the term is found in the very real dan- 
ger that learners will be satisfied with the word only, and 
think that their work is done when it is only begun. It 
is thus that words become "substitutes for ideas," an evil 
which we have discussed in Chapter XXIV. And this 
danger is so great and so serious that safety demands a 
pretty faithful observance of the rule, "First the idea and 
then the term. " Denomination is Volq final step in the 
process of conception. 



CHAPTER XXXIX 

THE LAW OF ASSOCIATION 

Principle IX. — TJie mincVs power to recall past expert- 
e^icesy the conteiit of consciousness from 7noment to 7nomenty 
and the creative power of the imagination are all depend- 
ent, in a great measure, upon the suggestive power of ideas ^ 
or in other words, the principle of association. 

The concise statement in the principle above given of 
the offices of association in our mental life should be 
clearly apprehended and thoroughly pondered by the 
teacher. The nature and operation of association have 
been set forth at some length in Part II and might well 
be reviewed at this point, especially Chapter XVII. 
Whether we are wholly dependent upon association for 
the rise of images in consciousness, whether we can ever 
shoot out our attention to any object of thought, inde- 
pendently of suggestion by the idea next preceding, is a 
question of much interest but not of great practical 
importance to the teacher. His chief reliance must be 
placed in the laws of association; and his great work, as 
an instructor, must consist in firmly establishing ideas in 
logical trains, or series, of such sort as will most service- 
ably insure the recovery of ideas when needed. To have 
had many ideas on a subject is not of much use unless 
they can be commanded when wanted. 

Application 1. — '•''Enrich your teaching tvith as many 
relevant associations as possible.''^ — Laurie. 

That mental efficiency which follows the power of ready 

280 



THE LAW OF ASSOCIATION^ 281 

recall is dependent upon breadth of association, the 
number and variety of relations established between the 
items of our knowledge. Says llalleck, "Bind new facts 
to other facts by relations of similarity, cause and effect, 
whole and part, or by any logical relation, and we shall 
find that when an idea occurs to us a host of related ideas 
will immediately flow into the mind." 

The great importance to the learner of widely correlat- 
ing all the facts for which he is likely to have any future 
use, of knitting together the different subjects studied, 
has already been discussed in Chapter XXXVII. As was 
then said, the student should always be asking himself, 
*' Where have I ever met anything like this before? What 
have I already learned to which this fact, or principle, 
bears any relation?" This mental habit of continually 
striving to organize our knowledge and make the new 
acquisitions enrich the old ones instead of displaciug 
them, is one of the utmost value. In no phase of teach' 
ing will the skill of the instructor, or his lack of it, be 
more manifest than in this work of securing breadth of 
association. 

But it is not enough that facts should be somehow 
associated in our minds; we can hardly escape that by 
any means. The important matter is that they should be 
wisely and effectively associated ; the associations should 
be relevant. We have already, in Chapter XVII, discussed 
the greater value of association by similarity and cause 
and effect. It is true that association by contiguity is a 
necessity in certain stages of our mental development. It 
is our main reliance in certain mechanical operations, as 
learning to spell, learning the multiplication table, and 
the like. Some facts in geography may also be best 
remembered by their contiguities, as the States of the 
Atlantic coast or the capes and bays of that, or any, coast 



282 THE THEORY OF TEACHIN"G 

line. These must be visualized, as represented on the 
maps, and then held as parts of a visual whole. 

But teacher and pupil should always be on the watch 
for more vital relations, for the similarities which are the 
basis of classification and the casual relations which fur- 
nish the rational connection of all phenomena. It is this 
thread of cause and effect which alone can make the 
physical world or human history intelligible, in the first 
place, and rememberable, in the second place. So the 
demand for the discernment of resemblances and causal 
connections should be persistent in all instruction. What 
for? What like? and What of it? are questions which 
should slip from the teacher's tongue, not mechanically, 
but habitually and intelligently. 

Application" 2. — "/^^ teaching^ re^jeat and re-repeat^ 
revise and re-revue, and he always falling hach on ele- 
mentary facts and principles^ relative to the subject of 
instruction, so as to maintain the series of associations.^"* 

—Laurie. 

What is here enjoined is not mere mechanical repeti- 
tion, whose purpose is to deepen and keep clear the paths 
of nervous discharge, but that sort of repetition and 
-review which brings ideas into the mind in new relations, 
thus revealing new force and value in the ideas recalled. 
For instance, one who recalls his knowledge of the force 
of gravity in connection with the flight of balloons and 
sees it as the cause of that flight, has enriched his idea of 
gravitation and strengthened his hold upon it by knowing 
it in a new relation. 

Here we find light on the matter of reviews, an argu- 
ment for their greater use, and guidance as to their char- 
acter. The most fruitful review is not a mere repetition 
of what has once been gone over, in the original order, 
but a consideration of additional facts which involve the 



THE LAW OF ASSOCIATION 283 

same causes, or principles, working under new conditions. 
As Laurie says, "Be always falling back on elementary 
facts and principles." 

The pupil is naturally inclined to center his whole 
attention on the present day's lesson and drop out of 
sight that which he has once passed over ; and too many 
teachers have the same habit, which is really a form of 
mental indolence. The teacher should give the pupil no 
peace and no discharge from that which he has once 
learned, if it was worth learning at all. He should be 
continually driven back to bring forward the earlier 
acquisition and see its bearing on the later. That refer- 
ence to what has preceded which is so inexorable a neces- 
sity in the study of geometry, for instance, ought to be, 
to a considerable extent, the law of procedure in all 
studies. Says Ilolman (Education, p. 117), *'How neces- 
sary it is to get the memory to do its work thoroughly 
will be recognized when we reflect that every new experi- 
ence owes much, if not most, of its meaning and value to 
the action of the knowledge gained from former experience. 
That is, the worth of a presentation depends largely upon 
the work of representations." But the fullness and force 
of the representations will depend almost wholly on the 
character and firmness of the associations formed when 
they were first acquired or on occasion of their later 
recall. 



CHAPTER XL 

IMAGINATION 

Principle X. — Sense experience, tliough fundamental, is 
necessarily narrow and has relatively little value until 
talcen up and recast hy the cognitive iinagination, which 
gives our knowledge its widest extension. 

Under Principle VIII, we emphasized the fundamental 
and necessary character of sense experience; here, we take 
up the complementary principle. Sense experience has 
not great value in itself, but in the use which can be 
made of it. It is necessarily narrow, because our move- 
ments aro restricted and our immediate contact with the 
world as a whole is narrow. Even the most widely trav- 
eled have sensed but little of the knowable universe. It 
is only when we "take the wings of the morning" that 
we may "dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea." And 
to the untraveled, unread person, the world is very narrow 
indeed. It is related of some Tennessee mountaineers who 
were summoned to the county seat, fourteen miles away 
over the mountain, that on their return home they won- 
dered among themselves whether the world was as big the 
other way as it was the way they had gone. 

Application 1. — ^'Imagination is the spiritual potver to 
which all instruction turns, and upon tvhose cooperation 
the success of all instruction depends. The pupil appre- 
hends the words of instruction only when his imagination 
succeeds in illustrati7ig them hy corresponding images.'''' 

— Lindner. 

284 



IMAGIKATIOK 285 

Says Tyndall, ** Philosophers may be right in affirming 
that we cannot transcend experience; but we can, at all 
events, carry it a long way from its origin. . . . New- 
ton's passage from a falling apple to a falling moon was, 
at the outset, a leap of the imagination." It is true that 
"imagination is always tied to the stake of perception by 
a cord of greater or less length"; but we should at least 
stretch the cord and make it as long as possible. 

But the first and fundamental service of imagination 
does not involve wide or lofty flights. It consists simply 
in forming the appropriate images, sometimes very 
familiar, which the words of instruction represent and are 
meant to excite. The power which children acquire in 
school, under poor teaching, of reading and reciting 
words as mere visible and audible forms, without any 
associated images, would doubtless dishearten us if we 
were conscious of its full extent. 

There are certain studies, of course, in which the office 
of imagination is greater than in others ; though none are 
independent of it. No one has the right to teach history, 
for instance, who has not himself a lively power of imag- 
ination and the ability to arouse the imaginations of his 
pupils. No accumulation of dry fact, and no amount of 
the "philosophy" of history can take the place of a vivid 
imagining of events, characters, and personal relations. 
What profit in talking about the Aryan migrations, for 
example, if we mentally picture no Aryans, no exodus, no 
march, and no arrival ? 

Application" 2. — Imagination is the great instrument 
by lohicli we ''''proceed from the knoiun to the unknoion^'' ; it 
mtcst therefore be brought into play in all fruitful acqui- 
sition. 

If I give to my pupil in geography any clear or service- 
able idea of bungalows, igloos, or Doric temples; of 



286 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

glaciers, jungles, whale-fishing, or mines, it must be 
through the stimulation and direction of his image- 
making power; and images there must be. Nothing can 
serve in their stead. Even more, when I pass to teach 
him of the social relations of mankind, of commerce and 
its necessary conditions, of transportation and mechanical 
inventions, of religious rites, and race migrations, must 
imagination be worked at its highest power or the results- 
will be lifeless and fruitless, dead and dry as dust. 

But nowhere more than in the Reading Class is this 
free play of imagination essential. Let it be, for example, 
a class in the Fourth Reader, and let the selection be 
either narrative, descriptive, or poetic, the constant 
demand of the teacher should be for imaging. *'What 
do you see here as you read? How does it look? How 
do you picture that?" If suitable and adequate images 
are evoked, appropriate emotions will also arise, and true 
expression, that despair of teachers, will easily follow. 
The trouble is that teachers take too much for granted ; it 
does not occur to them that the child's mind is not work- 
ing like their own, and that his images may be far wide 
of the fact and leading him into unsuspected confusion of 
thought and fancy. And let it not be thought that this 
demand for definite images will prove wearisome to the 
child. Far from it, for it will all, if wisely and freshly 
handled, tend toward the sine qua non of learning, genu- 
ine interest in the content of the lesson. 



CHAPTER XLI 

ABSTRACTION AND GENERALIZATION 

Principle XI. — Abstraction and generalization are the 
fundamental elements in all thinHng; witliout them there 
can be no general hnoioledge, no science. TJiey are the basis 
of all classificatio7i and all definition; but, lihe imagina- 
tion., they depend on experience for their data. The advance 
to rich conception is through clear and accurate perception. 
. In imagination, we pass from the known to the 
unknown, but remain still in the realm of the particular. 
We imagine individual mountains, landscapes, or ship- 
wrecks. If imagination can be thought of as representing 
relations it must be particular relations, between particu- 
lar objects. But conception with its twin processes of 
abstraction and generalization carries us a long step 
higher, into the realm -of rational thought, which marks 
the primacy of man over the brute, and which makes the 
rise of man from his savage state possible. Says Holman, 
*'Out of abstract ideas arise all our science and philoso- 
phies. From pure thought-elements of experience we 
derive other and higher thoughts and build these into 
systems of thought. These are the highest, and purely 
rational, values of our experience, and can only come 
directly from that which is wholly mental. Ideas [con- 
cepts] are themselves the most general elements of knowl- 
edge, for they have an infinite applicability. An infinite 
number of things have size, shape, weight, and so on. 
Sciences and philosophies involve the most generalized 
forms of ideas." 

287 



288 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

The formation of clear, accurate concepts and judg- 
ments is the highest function of the intellect. And since 
our concepts and judgments are used over and over again 
in forming new ones, and in constructing systems of 
thought, the training of the mind to clearness and sound- 
ness in their formation is the end toward which the hest 
efforts of the educator must always be directed. This 
proposition is not in conflict with the ideal of character 
as the chief end of education, for character itself demands 
right moral concepts and judgments. 

Application 1. — ''''It is a chief husiriess of education to 
jm.^s from disti7ictly perceived individual notio7is to clear 
general notions.''^ — Pestalozzi. 

The most important step upward in the development of 
the mind's activity is that from perception to conception. 
This step can never be made short; there is no easy road 
to right thinking. Therefore, at this point the teacher 
needs great skill and the pupil great patience. Here the 
teacher is brought to the supreme test, and his own power 
of clear thought and mastery of scientific method, or lack 
of these, is revealed in his results. 

The most difficult of the steps in conception, and so in 
all thinking, is that of abstraction, the clear determina- 
tion of the essential qualities of the class, or species. 
That is why the construction of accurate, logical defini- 
tions is the most difficult of all mental undertakings. 
One needs only to observe the looseness with which people 
who think themselves intelligent apply such words as lily, 
pine, insect, love, hate, etc., to say nothing of the maudlin 
abuse of the adjectives lovely, awful, and the like, to 
realize that abstraction is a process so laborious as to be 
very generally shirked. 

Of course, much of this slovenliness is due to pure 
indolence and indifference to accuracy, or truth; but 



ABSTRACTIOIT AND GENERALIZATION 289 

much of it, again, is due to defects of education, to loose 
and slovenly teaching in school days. Certain subjects 
in the school course, and notably formal grammar, are 
calculated, when properly taught, to discipline the power 
of abstraction. Grammar is especially a concej^tion- 
training study ^ if consciously used to that end. The same 
should be true of the natural sciences, with their precise 
terminology. But no study will of itself, in spite of poor 
teaching, produce the desired discipline. 

Application 2. — The comi)lete method of instruction is 
i7iductive-deductive; it involves not only the ascent from 
the particular to the yeneral, hut also a return from the 
general to j^articulars. 

Again and again, in our study of the mind and its proc- 
esses, it has been impressed upon us that the foundations 
of all our thinking are laid in the concrete, in observation 
and comparison of individual things, acts, and events. 
The experience of every teacher should convince him of 
the futility of attempting to handle abstract notions and 
generalizations which have not been worked up to by the 
inductive method. The slough of despond, or mental 
obfuscation, in which the schoolboy is landed by the all 
too common practice of beginning with half-compre- 
hended definitions and general rules is filled with strug- 
gling or stupefied victims of mistaken teaching, victims 
of the effort to make the child begin where the scientist 
left off. 

But it would also be a serious error if the teacher's 
effort were confined to the objective-analytic-inductive 
procedure. That only will furnish the necessary materials 
for clear thinking, but we must not stop there. It is not 
enough to attain the clear concepts and accurate defini- 
tions; the concepts must be turned to use in judgment 
and the definitions must be logically applied. One of the 



290 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

most discouraging experiences of any school examiner or 
teacher in the higher grades of work, is found in the 
bemuddled use of definitions by pupils, the exasperating 
inability to apply them accurately when need arises. And 
this is, perhaps, most forcibly exhibited in connection 
with grammar, that study which of all others, as elemen- 
tary logic, ought to furnish profitable discipline in the 
forming and use of definitions. 

This comes of the common "parroting" of rules and 
definitions, the substitution of words for ideas, which 
follows the premature use of the subjective-synthetic- 
deductive procedure. It is also, in part, a result of lack 
of rigor on the teacher's part in the enforcing of sufiicient 
practice in the application of definitions, when the time 
has come for their use. The "return from the general 
to the particular," the deductive process in general, is in 
effect simply the application of generalizations to the 
multitude and variety of particular cases which are more 
or less covertly included under them. And this putting 
of individuals under concepts, of facts under principles, 
is, in its deepest significance, the finding of the reason for 
those facts. It is the method of explanation. 

When the proper point has been reached for the learn- 
ing of a definition, the step should be treated as a serious 
one. The language of the definition should be considered 
carefully; in every reproduction of it, absolute verbal 
accuracy should be insisted on— no looseness allowed. 
And then the definition should be used^ not merely mem- 
orized ; it should be made a familiar standard of reference 
and appeal. 



CHAPTER XLII 

DESCRIPTION AND EXPLANATION 

Description and Definition. — This chapter may be con- 
sidered as supplementary to the preceding one. We have 
already, in Chapter XXI, briefly touched upon the differ- 
ence between description and definition. Description 
takes account of individuals only, and sets forth their 
more impressive aspects. Definitions pertain to concepts 
and set forth only those attributes which abstraction has 
selected as the basis of the species, and therefore common 
to all its members. Description thus deals with the con- 
crete ; definition is abstract. Description may be fragmen- 
tary; it may set forth only some of the characteristics and 
relations of the thing described, at the pleasure of the 
describer. Definition, to be valid, must set forth all and 
only the essential characteristics. Description holds 
good, so far as it holds at all, for only the one individual ; 
definition holds for all the individuals of the class. 
Description implies perception or, possibly, imagination; 
definition implies abstraction and generalization, concepts. 

Description and Explanation. — We have now to con- 
sider a third process, or activity, clearly distinguishable 
in its purpose from either description or definition, yet 
not always as clearly discriminated from them by teach- 
ers, even, as the interests of right thinking demand. 
Explanation and description are in no sense the same. 
Definition may be thought of as generalized description; 
explanation is not description at all, though it may, like 
description, relate to individual facts or events. 

291 



292 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

Description is concerned with the 2vhat and lioio; it 
tells hoio things look, sound, act. This, to be sure, 
involves a recognition of relations; but they are always 
particular relations. Explanation concerns itself only 
with the lohy. It is always a setting-forth of causes and 
requires a comprehension of laws, or principles. It deals 
with relations, but only with general, or logical, relations. 

Says Prof. Lloyd Morgan, *'It is of great importance 
that the teacher should clearly grasp the distinction 
between description and explanation, and should realize 
the fact of the invariably general nature of true explana- 
tion. It is one of the distinguishing features of good 
method in exposition that description should be kept 
apart from explanation. Many people use the two words 
without discrimination. They say, *Let me explain to 
you where the book may be found in the library'; or, *I 
will explain how you are to do such and such a thing.' 
Or they say, *We will now describe why it is that a stone 
falls to the ground' ; or, 'Describe how it is that a balloon 
rises in the air.' " 

A similar and familiar misuse of terms is seen in those 
teachers of arithmetic and algebra who require pupils to 
work problems on the blackboard and then call upon 
them to "explain" their work. It is very seldom that 
any explanation is given. The pupil simply tells what he 
has done, or how, with no attention whatever to the 
reasons why; and the teacher calmly accepts his uncon- 
scious subterfuge, being apparently as ignorant as the 
pupil of the true nature of explanation, 

Exvlanation Further Characterized. — Description and 
explanation both presuppose analysis; but explanation 
requires that form of analysis called abstraction, and adds 
to it generalization, which is a synthetic act. Whatever 
explains one fact must also explain all like facts. 



DESCRIPTION AND EXPLANATION 293 

Explanation is the reference of the individual to the gen- 
eral, to law, or principle. It is therefore "deductive" in 
its nature, and belongs to that return from the general to 
the particular which was discussed in our last lesson. It 
is "synthetic," because it puts particular cases under the 
general rule. Description, on the other hand, is "objec- 
tive" and "inductive" in its nature. 

To quote again from Lloyd Morgan, "It is obvious that 
adequate description should always be made the precursor 
to explanation. Not to do so is to proceed on the 
method, not of education, but of cramming. The explana- 
tion must never be allowed to be a mere statement com- 
mitted to memory, and remembered, if remembered at 
all, through the association by contiguity of its constitu- 
ent parts. One of the commonest faults in exposition is 
the putting forward of explanations before an adequate 
preparation in description has been systematically 
afforded." 

Explanation, in short, involves reasoning of the deduct- 
ive, or syllogistic, type; but as the syllogism derives its 
major premises from inductive reasoning, it follows that 
both modes are the necessary conditions of explanation. 
Explanation is always an appeal to principles, or truths, 
already known in their general form and in some of their 
applications. If the appeal is unsuccessful, then explana- 
tion fails. 



CHAPTER XLIII 

LANGUAGE 

Principle XII. — ^'■Language is not merely the necessary 
ijistrwnent for the comnmuication of thought; it is also 
an i7idispensablG auxiliary to thought itself. Created iy 
thought, it i7i turn develojjs it, aids it and defines it, and 
lightens the hurden of intelligence.'''' — Compayre. 

The central thought of the above pertinent quotation 
from the distinguished French educator, Compayre, has 
already been urged and amplified in Chapter XXIV. 
The first office of language is to think in. Thought 
becomes definite only through expression; and the great 
medium of expression is language. What one clearly 
knows he can always tell, for he does not clearly know it 
until he can tell. Ideas find their definite form and body 
in words, which, as we have said, are not the mere vest- 
ments, but the living integument of words. 

But words are also the indispensable means of commu- 
nicating thought, of exciting thought in other minds. 
As Dr. Carpenter puts it, "Language is an appeal to the 
ideational consciousness of another." Nothing absolutely 
new can be put into the mind of another by means of 
words; they serve, in communication, only to excite the 
mind to construct new images from the material already 
on hand. It is in this sense that language is an appeal. 
If the necessary materials are not in the possession of the 
mind addressed, the appeal must fail. If, on the other 
hand, the thought of the speaker is not accurately 

294 



LANGUAGE 295 

expressed; if, in other words, muddy, confused thinking 
finds its natural counterpart in a slovenly, inaccurate 
choice and use of words, then the appeal must fail 
through its own confusion and inadequacy. 

He who reflectively and intelligently considers language 
in these two aspects, as both the vehicle and the body of 
thought, must reach the conclusion that no other study 
is so vitally related to the cultivation of the understand- 
ing as the study of language. The mind that is not 
trained in the subtleties of words may find concrete 
expression in valorous deeds or, mayhap, in mechanical 
invention ; but it can never rise to the level of high and 
accurate thinking. It will ahvays dwell in the material 
rather than the spiritual realm. 

Application 1. — *'i/e ivlio is intelligently analyzing 
language is a^ialyzing the processes of thouglit^ and is a 
logician witJiout k7iowing it.'''' — Laurie. 

The reader who would acquaint himself with an ade- 
quate exposition of the value of the study of language is 
referred to Dr. Laurie's meaty little book, "Lectures on 
Language and Linguistic Method." Here, let us give 
attention, more narrowly, to the thought above quoted. 
Just what is meant by "analyzing language"? Several 
things. We may first think of it as applied to the 
sentence as a unit. Sentential analysis, if properly 
carried on and kept free from excessive use of the 
mechanical crutches of "diagraming," is no more nor 
less than an exercise in logic. The very terms subject, 
predicate, copula, attribute, etc., are borrowed from logic, 
and name the elements of all thinking. It is for this 
very reason that they also name the elements of language. 
"By the analysis of language, then, we introduce the 
young intellect to the analysis of thinking in its whole 
range," to quote once more from the work above men- 



296 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

tioned. Care needs to be taken, Jiowever, that the pupil 
is really analyzing thought, at every step, and not simply 
pigeon-holing words and phrases in some mechanical dia- 
graming device, intended to relieve the pupil from the 
labor of thinking. 

But even more fundamental and essential than the 
formal analysis of sentences is the analysis and critical 
study of individual words. The etymological study of 
words, known in schools as Word Analysis, is an exercise 
of the utmost practical value, tending not only to a 
clearer comprehension of the force of individual words, 
through an acquaintance with their life-history, but also 
to a critical habit in the choice of words. The writer of 
this, back in boyhood days, was made acquainted with 
Salem Town's pioneer book on Word Analysis; and to 
this day he esteems it a happy fate that put him thus 
early on the track which led to Dean Trench's "The 
Study of Words" and Crabb's "Synonyms." He is firmly 
of the opinion that the intellectual habit engendered by 
those books has been, life through, of greater practical 
value, and intellectual satisfaction as well, than any other 
line of study in equal amount, which he can name. 

The value of the study of formal grammar, the science 
of language as distinguished from the art, has already 
been touched upon in previous lessons. The several rea- 
sons for its study may be concisely summarized as follows: 

1. As an instrument of self-criticism, in writing and in 
oral discourse. 

2. As a standard of appeal, in the teaching of language 
and linguistic criticism. 

3. As a mental discipline, the cultivation of the power 
of abstraction and classification. 

4. As elementary logic, for the light it throws on the 
laws of thought. 



LANGUAGE 297 

In connection with the last statement, it seems not 
amiss to commend unqualifiedly the movement discern- 
ible of late among the makers of text-books m English 
Grammar, in which the thought side of grammar is 
emphasized and the connection between logic and gram- 
mar recognized. 

Application 2. — Language is abstract and has conse- 
quent limitations^ of ivliich one of the most serious is the 
danger that words may become substitutes for ideas. An- 
other danger lies in the liability of the teacher to deceive 
himself as to hoiv well he is understood. 

Says Holman (Education, p. 316), "Words represent 
the content of concepts in their most abbreviated and con- 
densed forms. They fix most clearly and permanently in 
mind the expression of ends, processes, and products of 
thought; and they tend to make ideas more vivid and 
definite. ... At the same time, however, words often 
prove a serious stumbling-block to thought and commu- 
nication. Since it would be practically impossible to 
have an entirely different word for every different con- 
cept, much less for all the various shades of difference in 
each of our concepts — for this would prove too great a 
burden for our memory — we have to use the same sign for 
several ideas, or things. . . . Great practical advantage 
is derived from this economy of language, but there is 
great danger of confusion and error if the inevitable 
ambiguity is not provided for." 

In the same line, Sully remarks, "The fact that the 
child is hearing a highly developed language spoken about 
him, which embodies the finer distinctions of mature 
intelligence, must tend to bewilder his mind at first. 
He finds it hard to distinguish between closely related 
and overlapping words, 'healthy' and 'strong,' 'sensible' 
and 'clever,' and so forth." The teacher must therefore 



298 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

constantly bear in mind the manifold liabilities to error, 
and apply to the pupil at every step the necessary tests 
for determining just what significance he is attaching to 
the terms used. 

These limitations of language have been more fully 
dwelt upon in Chapter XXIV, to which the reader is 
requested to refer, and especially to the discussion of the 
danger that words may disjjlace ideas. With this evil, as 
with physical ills, prevention is better than cure ; and the 
chief means of prevention, the inductive procedure in 
teaching, has also been dwelt upon in Chapter XXVI. 

A single supplementary thought may be added here. 
The secret of power in expression, of effectiveness in 
public address and in literature, lies largely in the choice 
of words. This happy, effective choice may be, to some 
extent, a sort of artistic gift, through quick appreciation 
of similitudes and the figurative force of words; but it is 
primarily a result of nice discrimination. Sentimental 
Tommy, lingering long for the precise word, even to the 
point of losing the prize, was on the way to a most valu- 
able habit of mind. The teacher can do his "lad o' 
pairts" no greater intellectual service than to stimulate 
and direct, with all possible energy and patience, the 
power of clean-cut thinking involved in the nice and crit- 
ical choice of words. 



CHAPTER XLIV 



THE LAW OF EXPRESSION 



Principle XIII. — A sensory stimulus or an idea is 
incomplete U7itil its motor tendencies have foimd expression 
of S07ne sort. This expression clarifies^ intensifies^ en- 
riches, and mahes concrete the original experience, giving 
it significance and 'permanence. 

*'A11 consciousness is motor" is a dictum advanced by 
many recent psychologists. The truth which it aims 
concisely to express is simply that all stimulation of the 
brain, whether by external or internal stimuli, tends, with 
greater or less force, to produce some physical result 
involving more or less of muscular contraction. The 
emotion of anger normally results in set teeth and 
clenched fists, if not in overt action; fear, on the other 
hand, is more likely to find its expression through the leg 
muscles or the vocal chords. This motor tendency, how- 
ever, though real, may be so slight as to escape ordinary 
observation. It may produce results, as in the case of 
blushing or internal qualms, in which the muscular 
activity is not exposed to observation. Again, while the 
tendency is strong, the overt muscular activity may be 
counteracted, or inhibited, by internal stimuli, as in the 
control of the countenance exercised by a person of 
culture and discipline. 

With children, as yet naive and undisciplined, the 
power of inhibition is weak and the habit not yet estab- 
lished. We see them, therefore, reacting with great free- 
dom to all sorts of stimuli, victims of sensory impression. 

299 



300 THE THEORY OF TEA.CHI5TG 

They liave not yet learned the art of concealment or of 
self-control. There can be no doubt, moreover, that the 
free, unconstrained expression which they give to all 
impulses and emotions tends greatly to increase the 
intensity and tone, whether of pleasure or pain, of those 
emotions. In much the same manner, the enthusiasm, or 
hilarity, of a crowd becomes more and more pronounced 
and transporting in proportion as free rein is given to its 
motor expression. Emotion unexpressed is an abortive 
sort of thing; and the case is not different with ideas. 

The general principle is quite aptly stated by Laurie, 
when he says, "There seems to be a general law in the 
universe that impression completes itself in expression, 
and that the former is incomplete without the actuality 
of the latter." But this must- be taken as referring to 
more than muscular reactions. Expression in language 
must be included as, perhaps, the most important of all 
responses to stimuli. 

Application" 1. — TJie school must provide for adequate 
expression on the part of pupils^ loth in respect to time and 
variety. Expression tlirough language^ oral and loritten^ 
is of the utmost i7nportance, hut is not su-fficient of itself 
Dratving^ modeling., serving., and other forms of manual 
training are necessary to give full scope to the chiUVs love 
and need of expression. 

To discuss these propositions here is only to reiterate 
statements that have been already advanced in various 
other connections. The school must continually demand 
expression from the pupil of some sort. "Say something 
that I may know you," was the demand of the ancient 
philosopher, and it should be no less the demand of the 
modern teacher. The great defect of the lecture system 
prevalent in our universities lies in its very limited 
demand for reproduction on the part of the students. 



THE LAW OF EXPRESSION 301 

The members of the class are, for the most part, passively 
recipient, with the result that they are very imperfectly 
recipient. Heie, too, is the evil of the loquacious, top- 
heavy teacher who does all the talking himself, or the 
impatient teacher who cannot wait for the slow working 
of the pupil's reproductive faculty. Great wrong is done 
to pupils by both these types of teacher. Learning takes 
time, and no time can be more profitably employed than 
by the efforts of the pupil to clarify by expression the 
ideas which he is striving to assimilate and fix in mind. 
And nowhere so much as in a normal school is it vitally 
important that the pupil should be practiced in free oral 
expression. One who cannot talk cannot teach, and the 
prospective teacher must learn to talk freely and to the 
point. He must be able to talk effectively or to refrain 
from talking as the occasion requires. 

But language is not the only form of expression for 
which opportunity should be provided. It has been said, 
with much force, that the mind has many avenues of 
impression, but that schools commonly recognize but one 
outlet of expression, language. Drawing, modeling, and 
the various forms of manual training should not be looked 
upon simply as arts, aiming to actualize certain material 
products, but as forms of expression, mental activities in 
fact, which, in the words of our principle, "give signifi- 
cance and permanence" to our receptive experience. 
"Learn to do by doing'' is a maxim which, properly, has 
reference only to the acquisition of skill. Learn to know 
by doing, might also be adopted as a maxim of value. 
Many a teacher has been heard to say, "I never knew 
much about grammar, or arithmetic, until I had to teach 
it." What is the real meaning of such a confession 
except that his knowledge of the subject was made clear 
and firm by the necessity of expression? 



302 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

Application^ 2. — '■''When wip?'essions aj^e passive, that 
is, do not issue in action, they gradually issve in insensi- 
lilityy — Bishop Butler. 

'•''Seize the very first possible opportunity to act on every 
resolution you maltC, and on every emotional prompting 
which you may experience in the direction of the habits you 
aspire to gain.''' — Prof. James. 

The knowledge that does riot evidence itself in some 
form of expression is a delusion; it is not real knowledge. 
In like manner, the feeling that does not issue in action 
is abortive, and will soon be no feeling. The child or 
man who says, "I am sorry," and does nothing to prove 
the reality of his sorrow, may keep up the affectation of 
sympathy, but will soon become incapable of genuine 
fellow-feeling. The wise teacher may do much by seizing 
suitable opportunities, as they offer, to lead his pupils into 
concrete expression of sympathy with the poor and the 
afflicted. The cooperation of all the pupils of a school in 
providing Christmas or Thanksgiving dinners for those 
who seldom taste a good dinner is a familiar example of 
such expression. The gathering of a contribution, how- 
ever small, for famine sufferers in India or the victims of 
a conflagration is a step in the emotional and moral 
culture of those who participate in it. 

The teacher will not forget, as the wise parent does 
not, that there is another and converse phase of this rela- 
tion of expression to emotion. There are feelings which 
do not so much demand expression as repression or even 
suppression. Feelings which are allowed no form of 
motor expression must "issue in insensibility" ; but this is 
only a negative result, and self-control should have its 
positive side as well. The attempt to starve out animal 
propensities and undesirable emotions by the methods of 
the hermit in the desert are inevitably barren of right 



THE LAW OF EXPRESSION 303 

result. There is need of a full and fruitful emotional 
life; there can be no worthy character without it. 
Therefore, let there be always the strongest and wisest 
stimulation, encouragement, and guidance of the gener- 
ous impulses into genuine practical expression in word 
and deed. 



CHAPTER XLV 



WILL 



Principle XIV. — Every state of the mind is a compound 

of knowing^ feeling^ ami tuilling^ and ive name the state fro^n 
its predo7ninating element. When these are in proper 
halance, they reinforce each other; when cither one is in 
excess^ the other will suffer eclipse; hut the development of 
a good will is the consummate result of true education. 

The mind is a unit and not an aggregation. There can 
be no volition without feeling, no emotion without cogni- 
tion; there can be no cognition without some sort of feel- 
ing both before and after; and volition must always have 
the guidance of intellect as well as the stimulus of emo- 
tion. But, on the other hand, an excess of emotion tends 
to paralyze judgment or render it erratic, as in the case 
of a man under sudden fear. An excess of the intellectual 
element with corresponding deficiency of emotion makes 
the cold, immobile mind, whose impulses are always in a 
neutralizing balance, always finding as many reasons for 
inaction as for action. Again, the active, bustling tem- 
perament, always holding motor nerves "on the trigger," 
is constantly precipitated into ill-considered action 
through lack of intellectual balance and, it may also be, 
without those strong emotions which spring from pene- 
trating insight or concentrated reflection. 

The youth, therefore, of an emotional temperament 
needs to have his inhibitory powers strengthened by the 
deepening of his intellectual activities and interests. And 
him of the energetic, impuisiv^e type we should aim to 
slow down by the same agency of intellectual discipline, 
that his activity may become more deliberative and 

304 



WILL 305 

inspired by more far-reaching motives; while the one of 
cold, impassive nature, lymphatic or unsympathetic, needs 
most the quickeuiDg, contagious influence of hearty and 
warm-blooded companions and instructors. There is 
need, therefore, in every scheme, or system, for something 
more than a course of intellectual exercises, however 
incisive or logically arranged. 

Meditation is often wise, profitable, and nourishing, 
even if not satisfying; but it is by no means the end of 
existence. Understanding is satisfying and also stimu- 
lating. But wise, fruitful, self-rewarding action is the 
ideal and perfect outcome of human life. This is at once 
the seed and the fruit of that character which is avouched 
to be the true end of education. A good will is simply a 
soul with strong altruistic emotions tempered by clear, 
well-balanced judgment so as to issue in effective and 
benevolent action, thus to yield the highest type of 
beauty and goodness. 

Application". — All the training and instruction of 
liome^ school^ society, and the church should have for its 
aim the supplying of motives and inhidit ions for the tvill or 
to give direct to ill training. 

It is the aim of every form of education, from that of 
savage tribes to the highest, to form the will according to 
some preconceived type, which type is an evolution and 
represents the social organization and ideals of the people. 
The higher these ideals, the more complex and difficult 
will be the educational processes. The lower forms con- 
sist mainly in the fixing with absolute firmness of certain 
habits, largely physical. In the higher forms of educa- 
tion, the habits to be formed will be principally habits of 
intellect, sensibility, and volition; and the number and 
variety needful is greatly increased by the increasing com- 
plexity of civilized life. 



306 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

The tendency in the education of the past has been to 
lay disproportionate stress on certain intellectual processes 
and acquisitions, without sufficiently close examination of 
their value to the development of character and their con- 
sequent claims to prominence in educational procedure 
There has been a corresponding failure to recognize, in 
school training, the educational value of practical train- 
ing, the exercise of judgment and skill in doing things 
and making tilings. Professor Dewey and others are 
calling our attention to our educational loss in the disap- 
pearance of the old-time home training which prevailed 
before the age of machinery and factory production. The 
student may read Dewey's "School and Society" with 
profit, for its suggestiveness. Whether the school can 
ever successfully provide any substitute for this form of 
will-training which belonged to a simpler mode of life and 
form of society, is a question which cannot be settled by 
the dictum of a philosopher, but is worthy of the most 
careful consideration. Unquestionably, manual training, 
when fully worked out and systematized, may do much for 
the training, not of "the eye and the hand" in the phys- 
ical sense, but of the intellect and the will. 

Furthermore, since education involves the whole man, 
the play instincts and social impulses must not be ignored 
or underestimated. The importance of school associa' 
tions, of sports, school societies of all kinds, and the social 
side generally of school life, have by no means received, 
as yet, the studious attention which they deserve on the 
part of educators. There can be little question that 
school athletics, when once wisely organized and brought 
within the reach and interest of the whole student body, 
the puny as well as the strong, have educational possibili- 
ties and utilities as yet unrealized and unsuspected. 



CHAPTER XLVI 

FEELING AND EDUCATION 

Principle XV. — Since feelings sux)ply the strongest mo- 
tives to the will and lar^gely determine thought as luell as 
action^ the formation of worthy character involves careful 
cultivation of the emotions, both in the loay of stimulation 
and rejiression. 

Whether ideas can furnish motives to the will except 
through the medium of the feelings which they excite is 
a question for the psychologist to answer, if he can. The 
educator, meanwhile, must recognize feelings as the 
springs of action and must play upon Ihem, in all their 
range, as the keyboard of conduct. But he must not be 
content to leave them as he finds them; the finest part of 
his work should consist in the cultivation of the child's 
emotional nature. And it is, no doubt, the most difficult 
part, calling for the greatest insight and skill. "How 
can I cultivate the emotions of children? How can I 
get hold of the emotional side of mind to in any way de- 
velop it?" are questions which have baffled many an 
earnest, thoughtful teacher. But to many who are 
trying to teach they have not occurred as conscious prob- 
lems. 

How sltall we, then, address ourselves to the emotional 
natures of our pupils? Certainly not in any direct and 
overt way. We cannot, with any useful result, say to the 
child, "Now you ought to feel thus and so." We cannot 
set the sensibility specific tasks as we do the intellect. 

307 



308 THE THEORY OF TEACHIiq^G 

We are unable to approach it in that way. Our educa- 
tional approach to the mind is primarily through its cog- 
nitive powers. But, secondarily, we have access to the 
emotional nature through the sympathetic, or contagious, 
character of feeling. Here is something which is not 
rational but instinctive, a principle of suggestion lying 
deep in our nature which enables us to exert an influence 
otherwise impossible, an influence of ten unintentional and 
sometimes injurious, but potent nevertheless. And it is 
largely through this principle of suggestion, or contagion, 
that the educator must skillfully work, not blindly nor 
blunderingly. 

Application 1. — "JV^e training of the moral faculty in 
a self-reliant mode of feeling and judging includes the 
hahit'iial exercise of the sympathetic feelings together with 
the poioers of judgment. ' ' — Sully. 

Two important truths combine in the above text. One 
is that thought and feeling should be exercised and culti- 
vated together. The character and quality of feeling are 
determined in a great degree by the nature of the ideas 
which call them forth. The so-called intellectual and 
aesthetic feelings can only be stimulated in connection 
with the appropriate ideas and judgments. And those 
compounds of thought and feeling which we call ideals, 
cannot be set up without the cooperation of the under- 
standing. 

The other thought is that our aim must be to make 
right and advantageous feeling habitual. If, for instance, 
I become a total abstainer, in later life it will be simply 
impossible for me to frequent, or even enter, a saloon. 
My early judgments on the dangers of bibulous indul- 
gence have resulted in habits of feeling with reference to 
even the outward appurtenances of the liquor traffic which 
become protective, even though my ideas covering the 



FEELING AND EDUCATION 309 

drinking of spirituous liquors may, meantime, have 
undergone considerable modification. But these habits 
of feeling have also resulted in habits of volition; the 
refusal of the will to enter saloons becomes ^itself, in a 
sense, automatic. When right choice becomes thus 
habitual, character is safely established and the end of 
education is, in so far, accomplished. But habit is the 
result of repetition, and the educator must see to it that 
occasion for right feeling and for the proper association 
of feeling and judgment are frequently and perseveringly 
provided. 

Application 2.^7/ is an imjjor'tant 2)art of the teach- 
er^s work to sujjphj motives. He therefore needs to become 
clearly acquainted loith the luhole gamut of incentives^ their 
relative value and elevation. 

This work of supplying motives consists, we may say, 
in evoking right and vitalizing feelings in connection with 
the daily tasks of the school and the daily acts of the 
pupils, and in establishing the desired association between 
them. The character of these feelings and their rank in 
what we have called the gamut of motives have been 
briefly discussed in Chapter XXXIV (p. 243), to which 
the reader is again requested to refer. 

A practical reflection may well be urged at this point, 
namely, that the teacher should never be content to 
secure a desired result by appeal to a lower motive than 
necessary. The child should be^ kept, so to speak, on 
moral tiptoe, though caution should be exercised lest he 
lose the needful contact between his feet and the ground. 
We must keep within the range of his possible and genu- 
ine emotional experience, and sedulously exclude all affec- 
tation or pretense. The pupil who cannot be reached by 
the highest motives must be met on his own plane, but 
his highest plane. 



310 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

Application" o.—The chilcVs interests determine his 
effort and conduct^ and through these the child can he most 
easily influenced^ whether they are luithin or luithout his 
school life. 

We have defined interesb as feeling, any form of feeling 
Tyhich arouses the effort of attention. A person is inter- 
ested in any form of mental experience when it yields a 
pleasure which makes him desire more of it. A person's 
interests are those attachments which he forms for partic- 
ular kinds of experience; in short, they are habitual feel- 
ings towards certain activities or phenomena. In 
accordance, therefore, with what we have been saying, 
under Application 1, the educator will strive to create 
profitable interests, to establish those habits of feeling 
which will result in the desired conduct. But all new 
interests must sprout out from old ones; the law of 
apperception holds here also. And thus it is important 
that the teacher should know what are the fundamental 
interests of his pupils, and get inside of them if possible. 
The teacher who can enter into any right interest of the 
child may thereby gain a starting point, a foothold of 
sympathy to influence that child to greater industry and 
better conduct. 



CHAPTER XLVII 

KNOWLEDGE AND EDUCATION 

Principle XVI. — The acquisition of knotdedge is not the 
0)ily^ nor even the principal end of education; 'but there 
can he no education loithout it. " What Mood aiid breath 
are to the body^ that^ in a larger sense^ knoiuledge is to the 
mind; it is the means of mind iiutrition.'''' 

The word knowledge is sometimes used to denote the 
act, or process, of knowing. In common use, however, it 
signifies the product of that process, the sum, or store, of 
ideas and judgments acquired and retained. The body of 
knowledge, in this sense, varies greatly with individuals 
according to age, experience, and education. Is its 
amount a matter of vital moment, and if so, wliy? If 
mental power, or efficiency, and moral strength are the 
ends of education, is the acquisition of knowledge essen- 
tial to their attainment? 

When the writer was engaged in the supervision of 
schools, he took occasion to ask of the children in many 
schools the question, ''Why do you go to school?" The 
almost invariable answer was, "To learn." To the next 
question, "Why do you wish to learn?" the majority 
could make no intelligent reply. And it is to be doubted 
whether their parents would have done much better. 
The relation of knowledge to education, and to life, is not 
very clearly conceived by people in general. 

In generations not far remote, knowledge was thought 
to be an end in itself. The educated man was simply the 

311 



312 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

learned man, the scholar; and, since learning was not 
thought of as related either to power or to the utilities 
of life except in certain mysterious and qnestionahle 
relations, as magic and astrology, it is not strange that 
the scholar was not held in high honor or regard. Schol- 
arship was only pedantry. The modern scholar and 
scientist had not yet arrived. But the old scholastic view 
of knowledge has nearly disappeared. What is the true 
conception which should take its i:)lace, and what is the 
real relation of knowledge, or learning, to education? 
Why should the children strive to learn? 

The Modern Concejjtion of the Uses of Knowledge, — 
Since the school is for life, we may consider the uses of 
knowledge broadly, as related to the whole of life. It is 
clear to any one that knowledge, of the right sort, is use- 
ful for guidance. The engineer must have wide knowl- 
edge of the laws of physics, the properties of matter and 
the principles of mechanics, or fail utterly in his under- 
takings. The farmer must have knowledge of soils, of 
the requirements of plant life, of market demands ; and 
so on through all the practical affairs of life. It is not so 
clearly recognized as it should be, however, that knowl- 
edge is equally necessary to the moral and spiritual life. 
One may be innocent and yet not be virtuous. No man 
can lead a right life without first knowing what is right, 
the bearings of actions, and one's relation to all his kind. 
The question which most troubles the well-intentioned 
man is, "What ought I to do; what is the true line of 
duty under these circumstances?" For instance, what is 
the right course of action with reference to the feeding of 
tramps? Social science yet lacks the needful knowledge 
for determining the final answer to that question. This 
value of knowledge for guidance in practical, scientific, 
and ethical directions is so great that, quite naturally, 



KNOWLEDGE AND EDUCATION 313 

many stop with that, and demand that education shall 
magnify this one end. And, even then, they ask only for 
the knowledge which shall tell us how to do things rather 
than that which can tell us what is worth doing. 

Another conce23tion of knowledge finds its greatest, 
value not in the possession, but in the acquisition. In 
this view, what the mind most needs is judicious exercise. 
Mental tension is the prime condition of increase in power. 
It is the work which counts rather than the direct result 
of the work. There is unquestionably much truth in this 
conception; an important use of knowledge is for the 
mental cliscipUiiG which its acquisition affords and even 
necessitates. Of this we shall have more to say later on. 

A third value consists in the subjective satisfaction 
which the possession of knowledge yields. The mere joy 
of understanding, of knowing why things are as they are, 
how they came to be what they are — in short, the love of 
truth for its intrinsic rather than its practical value — is 
to most minds a sufficient reason for the pursuit of 
knowledge. In fact, this motive rivals, if it does not 
surpass, the practical interest as a stimulus to scientific 
investigation and abstract thinking. "I want to know" 
expresses alike the attitude of childish curiosity, suffering 
pain through its sheer ignorance, and that of the scientist 
or philosopher, deeply discontented with his relative 
ignorance as his mental horizon gradually widens. Along 
with this satisfaction in the possession of knowledge as 
such, may be reckoned that gratifying sense of power 
which accompanies its possession. "I know" means much 
the same as "I can." 

Finally, a distinct use of knowledge may be found, in 
its elevating and refining influence. This result is, 
doubtless, what we should mean when we talk about the 
culture value of knowledge. It is, in a degree, the 



314 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

aesthetic aspect of knowledge. But, in many minds, the 
culture value of knowledge includes also that satisfaction 
in its mere possession which was touched upon in the 
preceding paragraph. In either sense, what we call cul- 
ture adds pleasure, refinement, and dignity to life. 

Dr. W. II. Payne (Contributions to the Science of 
Education) lays stress upon the conception of knowledge 
as aliment for the mind. In discussing the law of mental 
growth through self -activity, he says: "There must be a 
supply of something in the nature of aliment that can 
employ these activities and sustain this growth. In other 
words, there must be something on which the organism 
can react in such a w^ay that growth may take place 
through a process of elaboration and assimilation. The 
most general name for this aliment is knowledge." 
Another statement which he quotes is this: "Knowledge 
is the food of the mind. In order that food may 
strengthen the body, it must be duly digested and assimi- 
lated. And so knowledge must be not merely grasped, 
in its rudiments, by the indiscriminating memory, but it 
must be comprehended and, so to speak, digested, in 
order that it may nourish the mind." It may be that 
the physiological- analogy is pressed too closely in this 
view; but there seems to be pedagogical value in this 
conception of knowledge as the nourishment of the mind. 

Dr. Payne's summing up of the values of knowledge is 
given in the following scheme, viz. : 

^1. Practical jEX^^,. 
Education Values, j ^ Disciplinary j fP^^^^^' 
[3. Culture. 

But we have here only opened up the consideration of 
education values, a subject which demands the studious 
consideration of every one who aims to exercise any influ- 



KNOWLEDGE AND EDUCATION 315 

ence in directing the course of education. The subject 
may be profitably 2:)ursued by the study of chapters in 
Bain's "Science of Education," Spencer's "Education," 
Payne's "Contributions," above cited, and McMurry's 
"General Method." Certain papers by Dr. Wm. T. Harris 
should be carefully digested, as "The Necessity for Five 
Coordinate Groups of Studies in the Schools," in the 
Educational Review, April, 1896'. 

Application 1. — ^^Apjjrojjriate viatlcr for investiga- 
tion and study, 'properly ^presented to the mind, excites the 
necessary exercise, self -activity.^'' — Prof. Putnam. 

Here we emphasize, in a way, the disciplinary office of 
knowledge as (1) stimulating to activity, and (2) furnish- 
ing the "appropriate resistance," on which we touched in 
Chapter XXXIV (Self- Activity) . But certain kinds of 
knowledge are believed to have especial adaptation to this 
disciplinary result, the development of mental efficiency 
by exercise. Many studies which seem to have little 
value for guidance in life or for culture in the narrow 
sense have been given prominence in the traditional 
courses of study, especially college courses, because of 
their supposedly great disciplinary virtue. It has been 
thought, indeed, that the disciplinary value ot studies, 
generally, is in inverse ratio to their practical or informa- 
tion value. 

Herbert Spencer was perhaps the first to openly chal- 
lenge this view, by his declaration that the knowledge 
which is best for one end is also best for the other. "We 
may be quite sure," he says, "that the acquirement of 
those classes of facts which are most useful for regulating 
conduct involves a mental exercise best fitted for strength- 
ening the faculties. It would be utterly contrary to 
the beautiful economy of Nature if one kind of culture 
were needed for the gaining of information and another 



316 THE THEORY OF TEACHING ' 

kind were needed as a mental gymnastic," a declaration 
which savors more of assumption than of argument. 

But, while this position cannot be accepted unques- 
tioningly, there has been a considerable reaction in recent 
years against the giving of great prominence to studies on 
purely disciplinary grounds. On this, the reader is 
referred to Dr. Hinsdale's paper on "The Dogma of For- 
mal Discipline," in the JSducatmial Revieio for Septem- 
ber, 1894. The popularity of the Herbartian doctrines, 
of late, has resulted in the exalting of those studies 
having great "content value," as history and literature, 
to the comparative neglect of the more purely disciplinary 
studies. This reaction is, no doubt, wholesome, within 
limits ; but we should be careful to remember, after all, 
that, whatever studies we employ, an important purpose 
is the exercise of the mind in overcoming difficulties. 
And while studies are not to be recommended solely 
because of their difficulty, still less are they to be chosen 
because of their lack of difficulty. The college boy hunt- 
ing for a "snap" is only trying to cheat himself; and the 
worst fool is one who fools himself. 

Application 2. — TeachaUe materials are far- from 
hemg of equal value as mental nutriment to all pupils^ or 
at all times to the same pupil. Each stage of advancement 
and each peculiar condition must he co7isidered in estimat- 
ing educati07ial values^ and a proper balance and variety 
of studies should he insisted u'pon during school days. 

Here we have the conception of knowledge as mental 
aliment, which may be considered as combining the disci- 
plinary and the culture ideals. Knowledge is nourishing 
both in its acquisition and its possession. The more 
knowledge we possess the better are we qualified for the 
assimilation of more knowledge. Bat, under the law of 
apperception, in making our pedagogical prescription of 



KKOWLEDGE AKD EDUCATION SI*? 

the mental pabulum most suitable and profitable in a 
given case, we must always take account of the present 
status of the pupil both as to his mental constitution and 
his past treatment, whether successful or unsuccessful. 
Of course, under our methods of school organization, 
there is a practical difficulty in prescribing the best scho- 
lastic diet for each individual pupil ; but the principle 
remains true, and the teacher should not fall into the 
error of believing that a fixed and invariable curriculum 
is best for all pupils. But this is by no means saying that 
we should always follow the lead of the pupil's inclination 
or caprice. 

Application" 3. — The deterynination of ivhat Tcnowledge 
sliall he pi'esented to the mind for assimilation at a given 
time, or lesson, must not be left in any degree to chance or 
accident, but should le regulated hy definite principles of 
procedure. 

There is first, of course, the necessity for a general out- 
line, or course of study, which shall provide for a proper 
balance of mental activities, so as to exercise the mind on 
all its sides and also observe the logical sequence and 
dependence of studies. This will save the pupil from 
one-sided development, on the one hand, and prevent his 
being put by an unwise teacher at mental undertakings 
for which he has no adequate preparation. 

But even more important, in the case of the rank-and- 
file teacher, is the more minute division and assignment 
of work which he must make from day to day. In short, 
the daily lesson plan is an essential item in the teacher's 
work. This involves, on his part, the presence of several 
conditions. First, there must be a consciousness of the 
general aim of each particular study, or branch — the 
reason why it should be taught at all. But, after and 
within this, there should be a distinct recognition of the 



318 THE THEORY OF TEACHING 

particular aim of the given lesson, the reasons for teach- 
ing it and the definite result which should follow 
"What real harm would come if I should omit this 
lesson?" is a question which the teacher might profitably 
ask himself in each case. The fact that it occupies a 
place in the text-book is not necessarily a sufficient reason 
for teaching it rather than something else. 

Thirdly, the teacher needs to see clearly just what 
mental steps or processes are necessary on the pupil's part 
before he can realize the definite result aimed at; 
otherwise both will be wandering in a mental wilderness. 
This is a logical necessity, and involves a clear and 
thorough knowledge on the part of the instructor of the 
subject to be taught, both in its wider and its narrower 
relations. 

Fourthly, the teacher must have a definite apprehen- 
sion of the pupil's mental status with reference to these 
steps, of what ones he has already taken; for this must 
determine what remains to be done. Perhaps no mistake 
on the part of the teacher is more common or more waste- 
ful than that of trying to erect the structure of knowledge 
on treacherous foundations, striving to advance the pupil 
in neglect of the apperceptive principle and even of the 
logical sequences. What does the pupil actually know 
along this road? What foundations has he on which to 
build? How much can be safely assumed as unnecessary 
to be taught or retaught? These are questions which 
must continually be asked and answered by the successful 
teacher, He must in some way *'take stock" of the 
pupil's mental possessions with reference to each new 
topic, or "lesson-whole," in the whole curriculum. And 
all undue haste, through assumption of iDreparation which 
does not in fact exist, is only an attempt to "make bricks 
without straw," to build abutments on the quicksands. 



KNOWLEDGE AND EDUCATION 319 

Finally, in order that knowledge may grow apace and 
truly nourish the mind which appropriates it, in order, in 
short, that real mental assimilation may take place, it 
must be administered not only under proper conditions, 
but by natural and therefore scientific methods. Method, 
as we have said in Chapter XXVI, is systematic procedure 
according to principles ; it is the pursuit of art according 
to the laws of science. And in the art of teaching these 
principles are the laws of mind ; they exist in the nature 
of things and cannot be ignored or evaded. Whatever 
the child really learns he must learn according to these 
laws. The teacher may greatly assist him in this process, 
or, through ignorance and awkwardness, may impede 
instead of further his progress. The * 'artificial produc- 
tion of stupidity in schools" is not wholly a figment of 
the imagination; and it happens, wherever it happens, 
through neglect of the principles which have been imper- 
fectly presented in the foregoing pages. 



CHAPTER XLVIII 



*THE ART OF STUDY 



Misa]p2^lied Energy. — Many young people in school fail 
of even ordinary success in their work from lack of energy. 
Either they do not possess it or they do not use it in 
study ; they are either weak or lazy — or frivolous, which 
means both weak and lazy. For such pupils, no school 
can accomplish much; they are foreordained to failure, 
in life as Vy'ell as in studies. But there is another and 
larger class who put forth abundant energy but still fail 
of satisfactory results because they misapply it; they do 
not know how to turn it to account, and so waste it. 
They are earnest and work hard enough — too hard some- 
times — and yet fail of full success. They are often con- 
scious of this and so worry, and do not get the pleasure 
out of study to which they are properly entitled. They 
suffer simply because they have never learned how to 
study. And this is the fault of their teachers. 

Why should this be so? Why do not all teachers teach 
their pupils how to study, how to apply their minds to 
their work successfully? Chiefly, perhaps, because they 
do not know how themselves, or at least do not know how 
to direct others. There are no ready-made recipes for 
successful study, no formulae which we can mechanically 
apply. We must fall back on principles. 

♦This chapter comprises the substance of two talks made to the students 
of the Whitewater Normal School at *' morning exercises." It is appended 
here as in harmony with the purposes of the preceding chapters and supple- 
mentary to them. 

320 



THE ART OF STUDY 321 

The Principle of Coiicentration.— The first great prin- 
ciple of study, then, is that of Concentration. In Physics, 
we learn "the law of impenetrability," that two bodies 
cannot occupy the same space at the same time. Now 
the law of concentration is simply the law of impenetra- 
bility applied to mental operations. The student should 
remember the following simple, self-evident propositions: 
(I) You cannot learn a lesson and do a lot of other things 
at the same time. You cannot be a student and a 
"flutter-budget" at the same time. To master a lesson, 
you must "bone down" and stay at it. Half an hour of 
mental concentration is better than an hour and a half of 
flitting, or mental sauntering. The worst and most com- 
mon of all mistakes in study is that of dawdling. (2) You 
3annot get a lesson and entertain company at the same 
time. Study is never a social activity. You cannot study 
and talk at the same time ; when you are talking you are 
not studying. The talkative roommate is an expensive 
nuisance. "Mind each your own business, and keep your 
tongues still" is one good practical rule, at least, for suc- 
cessful study. "May John and I study our lesson 
together?" is a request often heard in country schools, at 
least; and many a teacher has fallen into that pitfall. It 
seems a reasonable request until we consider that two boys 
cafMiot study together. Study is an individual affair; and 
"studying together". is only a plausible way of wasting 
time. 

The Princi^jle of Reflection. — A second principle of 
study is that of Reflection. It is not enough to bend 
one's gaze resolutely and continuously upon the book; 
one must thinh. It is not enough merely to see, or to 
say, the words of the lesson, no matter how often. The 
pupil must think into the words before him, must realize 
their full and exact force, must be able to illustrate their 



322 THE THEORY OF TEAOHIKG 

meaning. This is the supreme test of one's understand- 
ing of a statement, the ability to illustrate its ai^plication. 
The need of concentration and of surroundings favorable 
to concentration is simply in order that we may think. 

It may be useful to explain a little more specifically 
what is meant by thinking. As here applied to study, it 
means (1) Comprehending the meaning of abstract terms, 
what is technically called conception. In every branch of 
study, as grammar, arithmetic, or geography, there are 
many technical terms, belonging especially to that subject. 
These must all be clearly comprehended or they are like 
algebraic symbols of unknown quantities. We only 
juggle with them unless we can reduce them to terms of 
the known. Our use, or abuse, of definitions illustrates 
this matter pertinently; they are mere verbal formulae, 
or lingoes, unless we think clearly the exact meaning of 
all their terms. And how often we hear from a pupil, 
when called upon to explain a term, the feeble answer, "I 
can't define it," a confession that he cannot, or does not 
thinh it. If we have thought clearly what a word really 
means, we can define it. And a ready-made, second-hand 
definition is of no value to us unless we can apply it, 
exemplify it. So the first thing to do with a lesson is to 
understand it, to know what it says, what its words mean. 
(2) Another phase of thinking is that called reasoning, 
the deriving of new judgments, or conclusions, as conse- 
quences, from previous ones. It is, in a sense, only turn- 
ing to account what we already know by analyzing it to 
see what it really involves, or by putting together what we 
already know in order to know more. A familiar charac- 
teristic of the average student is his lack of ability, or 
disposition, to use what he already knows. He lacks the 
habit of **putting this, and that together" to see their 
bearing on each other. 



THE ART OF STUDY 323 

The Principle of Organization. — (3) But it is not 
enough, even, that the pupil understand the lesson; he 
must organize his knowledge, must analyze it so as to see 
what are the important parts, or points, and then hang 
the other matter about these. The third principle of 
study is, thus, that of Organization^ the proper relating 
and association of facts. 

There are two relations between facts, which, above all 
others, we need to be looking out for continually. The 
first is that of similarity, or common nature. The labor 
of study consists largely in the teaching of resemblances, 
not superficial but intrinsic similarity. With this goes, 
also, discrimination, the watch for essential differences. 
For example, in a study of our *' Spanish War," in order 
to really understand it we must be able to classify it with 
like wars. But in order to classify it we must first dis- 
criminate it from all unlike wars. 

The second vital relation is that of cause and effect. 
Any immediate fact can have little value or interest to me 
unless I recognize it, on the one hand, as an effect of a 
discoverable cause, and, on the other hand, as a cause of 
discoverable results. Study should involve a constant 
watch for this relation between the fact under considera- 
tion at any time and others already familiar. It is by 
these two principles of similarity, or common nature, and 
the causal tie that we organize our knowledge and give it 
vitality. Our whole mental acquisition should be like a 
spreading tree, of which each item of knowledge is a liv- 
ing, growing twig. 

The Practical Conditions of Successful Study. — To turn 
from this somewhat theoretical discussion of the necessary 
elements of real study to the immediately practical side 
of the business, let us briefly touch upon some of the 
external conditions favoring such study and some of the 



B24: THE THEORY OF TEACHIIS'G 

mistakes to which pupils are naturally prone. To the 
pupil who has not yefc acquired the habits of close con- 
centration and reflection, quiet surroundings are a neces- 
sary condition. All distractions from the immediate 
surroundings should be reduced to the minimum. The 
family living-room with its miscellaneous attractions is a 
most unsuitable environment. A disorderly, turbulent 
schoolroom is little better. But to the noises of the street 
and the usual movements of the school, the pupil must 
become habituated. The pupil who cannot concentrate 
attention in the presence of familiar, unavoidable distrac- 
tions has not yet learned the first lesson in mental appli- 
cation. 

Favorable conditions as to light, temperature, and 
bodily comfort should be secured as far as practicable, 
and considerable freedom as to bodily posture may be 
allowed; mental attitude is the vital thing, and the body 
should be dismissed from consciousness if possible. In 
the case of night study, it is of no small importance that 
the light should be of adequate power and properly placed. 
If possible, it should shine over the reader's shoulder, if 
not, it should be properly shaded. A study lamp without 
a suitable shade is an enormity. By day, an open window 
is the worst possible location for studious application, a 
very effective bid for mind-wandering. 

A Common Mistake in Study. — Probably the worst of 
all evil practices connected with ostensible stud^ is the 
time-honored one of trying to learn a lesson by simply 
reading it over and over as a whole. This, in my boyhood 
days, was the regulation way of "studying" a spelling 
lesson. Each repetition became more mechanical and 
less critical than the last, until the whole process became 
one of mere silent or audible mumbling. Such a way of 
learning a lesson is, when we think about it, a first-class 



THE ART or STUDY 325 

illustration of how not to do it. So far as rea-ding a book- 
lesson is concerned, only two readings, as a rule, need be 
given, and these not to the lesson as a whole, but to the 
several paragraphs, or sub-topics, one by one. The first 
reading should be for com/preliension^ with no other pur- 
pose than to understand what is presented. This reading 
should be deliberate and analytic. The second reading 
should be with intent to organize the matter and fix it in 
mind. Any additional time should be devoted to the 
effort of reproduction, thinking through the matter with- 
out more than occasional reference to the book. Com- 
prehend and learn thoroughly whatever is attempted, even 
though it be only part of the assignment. If the assign- 
ment was too lengthy, let the teacher find it out through 
your inability to compass the whole in a proper manner. 
As a rule, it is far better to master a part of the lesson 
assigned than to "skim" the whole of it. 

A closing remark may be made concerning the use, or 
rather the making, of tabular outlines. As a means, or 
method, of clearly apprehending relations and organizing 
the knowledge under process of acquisition, such analysis 
of subject-matter is of the greatest value. In fact, it is 
in many cases indispensable. But it is much to be pre- 
ferred that the student work out such outlines for himself. 
A ready-made tabulation, furnished by the text-book or the 
teacher, has comparatively little value except for review 
purposes; while one worked out by the student himself is 
a sure means to real comprehension, and a valuable aid to 
retention. 



INDEX 



Abstraction, 129; difficulty of, 288; factor in 
conception, 129; pedagogical importance 
of, 287. 

Abstract and concrete, 258, 267. 

Abstract notions, 130. 

Accommodation of the eye, 69. 

Accuracy in the use of words, 171. 

Action, different types of, 217; impulsive, 41, 
217; instinctive, 217; reflex, 38 ff., 217; 
spontaneous, 41, 217; voluntary, 218. 

Active touch, 56; schoolmaster of siglit, 74. 

Adolescence, 227; period of, 256. 

Aesthetic imagination, 120. 

Aesthetic sentiment, the, 210. 

After-images, positive, 76; negative, 77. 

Analogy, reasoning by, 157. 

Analysis, 174; definition of, 175; discrimina- 
tion and, 176; synthesis and, 175. 

Analytic method, 181. 

Animals, language of, 162; can they think? 
163. 

Apperception, law cf, 271; defined, 271; illus- 
trated, 272; application of, 273. 

Arborization of nerve fibers, 35. 

Art of study, 320 ff. 

Artist, the feeling of the, 120. 

Assimilation, a fundamental process, 16; a 
stage in perception, 87. 

Association of ideas, 103 ff.; laws of, 103 ff., 
107; by contiguity, 105; in learning to read, 
106; higher forms of, 107; breadth of asso- 
ciation, 108, 281; divergent associations, 
108; pedagogical law of, 280. 

Associational thinking, 164. 

Attention, defined, 93; conditions of, 94; 
kinds of, 96; voluntary att., 96; follows 
the lead of interest, 264; mother of inter- 
est, 266. 

Auditory nerve, 60, 61. 

Automatic imagination, 118; memory, 113. 

Axis cylinder, 27. 

Axones, 35, 36. 

Babe, new-born, mental status of, 20. 

Basilar membrane, 61, 

Blind spot, 67. 

Blind, limitations of the, 80. 

Blind-deaf, the, 84. 

Brain, the, 26; changes of in retention, 101. 

Bridgman, Laura, 84. 

Carpenter, Dr., definition of language, 294. 
Cause and effect, law of, 104. 
Cell bodies of neurones, 36. 
Cerebellum, the, 26. 
Cerebrum, the, 26. 



Character, establishment of, 22. 

Child study, 233. 

Childhood, Wordsworth's ode, 123; feelings 

of, 212; period of, 256. 
Childish fancy, 124. 
Children, imagination of, 122. 
Choice, 218. 

Choice of words, accuracy in, 171, 298. 
Cochlea, the, 58, 60. 
Cognitive imagination, 119. 
Cold spots, 47. 
Color-blindness, 82. 
Communication, how far possible, 168. 
Complete method, 183, 289. 
Concentration of consciousness, 93; in study, 

321. 
Conception, 128 ff.; process of, 129; summary 

of, 136; relation to judgment, 149. 
Concepts, nature of, 128 ff.; growth of illus- 
trated, 130; classes, or kinds of, 130; 
definition of, 131; , cannot be imaged, 131; 
not fixed in content, 132; children's con- 
cepts, 132; relations of concepts, 133; in 
series, 135. 
Concrete and abstract, 258, 267. 
Confusion of taste and smell, 50. 
Conscience, 211. 
Consciousness, what, 17, 93; the first, 21; 

distribution of, 93; focal, 93. 
Construction in imagination, 117. 
Contiguity, law of, 103; examples of, 106. 
Contrast, law of, 105. 
Copula, the, 142. 

Deaf, limitations of the, 81. 

Deductive reasoning, 151; dangers of, 152. 

Deductive method, 182, 183. 

Defects, sense, 79 ff.; of hearing, 81, 83; of 
sight, 81 ff. 

Definition, 137; structure of a, 137; rules of, 
138; exercise in, 139; place in school work, 
290, 322; differs how from description, 291. 

Demonstrative reasoning, 153. 

Dendrites, 35. 

Dendrons, 34. 

Denomination, 130. 

Description and definition, 291; and expla- 
nation, 291. 

Desire, 218. 

Development, involves what, 6; the law of, 
253; natural order of, 253; periods of, 255 ff. 

Discrimination, a fundamental process, 16; 
a stage in perception, 87; relation to anal- 
ysis, 176. 

Disparagement of memory. 111. 

Dissociation, 117. 



327 



328 



IKDEX 



Distance, auditory determination of, 63; 

visual signs of, 72. 
Division, logical, 139; rules for, 140. 

Ear, the external, 58; the internal, 59. 
Education, defined, 6; factors, 7; statements 

of the end of, 8 ff.; feeling and, 307 ff.; 

knowledge and, 311 ff. 
Education values, 314. 
Emotions. 207; different tjTes of, 209. 
End organs, 32; af touch, 53. 
Environment, 232; of school, 235. 
Equilibrium, sense of, 60. 
Ethical imagination, 121. 
Euler's notation, 142, 145. 
Exercise strengthens faculty, 246. 
Explanation and description, 291; further 

characterized, 292. 
Expression, of feeling, 207; pedagogical law 

of, 299; school must provide for, 300. 
Extension, and intension, 134. 
Eye, structure of, 66; muscular sensations of, 

70. 
Eyeball, muscles of, 70, 74. 

Fact vs. truth, 2. 

Fallacies, logical, 152. 

Fancy, in children, 124; confusion of fact and, 
124. 

Fatigue, sensations of, 52; in school, 229, 230. 

Feeling, defined, 16, 206; classification of, 
206; reflexive effect of, 207; genesis of, 
208; pleasure-pain element, 209; social 
feelings, 209; asmotive,2]2, 307; children's 
feelings, 212; tabular outline of, 214; sum- 
mary of, 214; relation to knowing and will- 
ing, 304; and education, 307 ff. 

Fool, Thring's definition of, 250, 276. 

Fovea, the, 67. 

Geometry, syllogism in, 153. 

General judgments, 144; how we come by 

them, 154. 
General method, 178 ff. 
Generalization, stage in conception, 129. 
Genus and species, 133. _ 
Grammar, as a training in conception, 289, 

290; uses of, 296. 

Habit, basis of, 192; examples of, 193; essen- 
tial characteristics of, 193; differs from 
instinct, 195; effects of on life, 195; bond- 
age of, 196; education and, 197; good 
habits not spontaneous, 198; Prof. James on, 
198, 239, 240; summary of, 199; peda- 
gogical law of, 236; duty of teachers con- 
cerning, 236, 237, 239; mental habits to be 
cultivated, 238; maxims on, 240. 

Harmony, of tones, 63. 

Hearing, organ of, 58; sense of, 58 ff.; phys- 
ical process of, 61; ideas derived from, 63; 
how it serves the mind, 64. 

Heat spots, 47. 

Helplessness of infancy, 20. 

Herbart's classification of interests, 265. 

Heredity, 231. 

Hypothesis, how related to theory, 3. 



Ideas, derived from muscular sensations, 53; 
derived from touch, 54; of size, 72; of 
direction and distance, 72; of motion, 71; 
of solid form, 73; where when not in con- 
sciousness, 100. 

Idea before the term, 278. 

Illusions, false perceptions, 90. 

Images, differ how from percepts, 99; of 
things unseen, 116, 117; differ how from 
concepts, 131. 

Imagination, nature of, 116; definition of, 
117; process of, 117; phases, or kinds, 118; 
uses of, 118 ff.; automatic, 118; cognitive, 
119; inventive, or practical, 119; aesthetic, 
or artistic, 120; ethical, 121; emotion and 
imagination, 121; in children, 122; dan- 
gers of, 124; cultivation of, 125; exercise 
of, 126; materials of, 126; pedagogical val- 
ue of, 284 ff.; as instrument of acquisition, 
286. 

Impression must issue in expression, 302. 

Impulsive action, 217. 

Impure imaginings, 125. 

Incentives to study, 243, 309. 

Individuality of pupils, 233. 

Inductive method, 179 ff.; place of, 186 ; ad- 
vantages of, 187; limitations of, 187. 

Inductive reasoning, 155, characteristics of, 
156; early use of, 157; hasty induction, 
157. 

Infancy, helplessness of, 20; period of, 255. 

Instinct, and habit, 195; nature of, 200; 
relates to action only, 200; illustrations of, 
201; characteristics of, 201; Llovd Morgan 
on, 202; explanation of, 203; in man, 203; 
transitoriness of, 204; summary of, 204; 
Prof. .lames on, 204 

Instinctive action, 202, 217. 

Instincts, when to be utilized, 262. 

Intellectual activity, the first, 22. 

Intellectual sentiment, the, 210. 

Intension, and extension, 134. 

Interest, nature of, 95; pedagogical law of, 
264; the mother of attention, 266; rules 
for securing, 267. 

Interests, choice of, 97; immediate and re- 
mote, 96; classification of, 265; determine 
effort, 310. 

Interpretation of sensations, 88; of new in 
the light of the old, 271. 

Intuitions, 144. 

Intuitive judgments, 144. 

Inventive imagination, 119. 

Inversion of retinal images, 75. 

James, Prof., on habit, 198, 239, 240; on 
instinct, 204. 

Judgment, nature of, 141; relation of to other 
processes, 148; relation to conception, 149; 
summary of, 149. 

Judgments, essential parts of, 142; of iden- 
tity, 143; classification of, 143, 144; indis- 
tinct, causes of, 147; second-hand,_148. 

Keller, Helen, 84. 

Knowing, defined, 16; always connected with 
feeling and willing, 304. 



INDEX 



329 



Knowledge, how begins, 20; sources of, 22; 

relation of modes of reasoning to, 158; should 

be put to use, 276; and education, 311 ff.; 

the aliment of the mind, 314; uses of, 

modern conception of the, 312. 
Known, the, to the unknown, 257. 



Language, nature of, 161; division of, 161; 
of emotion, 161; of animals, 162; uses of, 
165 ff.; as ? means of communication, 168; 
limitations of, 169 ff., 294; dangers of, 170, 
297; important language habits, 171; sum- 
mary of, 173; pedagogical principle of, 294; 
Laurie on, 295; Holman on, 297. 

Lecture system, defect of, 300. 

Lesson plan, daily, need of, 317. 

Light and shade, 70; as sign of solidity, 74. 

Limitations, of the blind, 80; of the deaf, 81 ; 
of language, 169 ff. 

LocaUzation, of sensations, 55; a stage in per- 
ception, 87, 88. 

Local signs, 88. 

Logical division, 139. 

Major premise, 151; may not bo expressed, 
154. 

Manner and method, 178. 

Mathematical reasoning, 153; why so certain 
in its results, 154. 

Matter, what it does, 16. 

Maturity, the age of, 257. 

Maxims, Prof. James's on habit, 240; use of 
the word, 254; important pedagogical, 
257 ff. 

Mechanical memory. 111. 

Medulla oblongata, 26. 

Medullary sheath, 28. 

Memory, 99 ff.; phases of process, 100; kinds 
of, HI; mechanical, 111; rational, HI; 
disparagement of, 111; special memories, 
112; tabular outline of, 115. 

Method, defined, 178; manner and. 178; spe- 
cial methods, 179; inductive, 179 ff.; ana- 
Ij'tic, 181; objective, 181; of discovery, 
181; deductive, 182, 183; subjective, 183; 
synthetic, 183; complete, 183, 289; sum- 
mary of, 190. 

Methods, special, 179; of teaching reading, 
184. 

Middle Ages, education in, 255. 

Middle term, 151, 152. 

Mind, the teacher's material, 12; nature of, 
15; what it can do, 16; mind and body, 
17, 225: development of, 241 ff. 

Misapplied energy, 320. 

Mnemonics, 114. 

Moral sentiment, the, 210. 

Morgan, Prof. Lloyd, on instinct, 202; on 
attention, 93; on description and explana- 
tion, 293. 

Motion, ideas of, 71. 

Motives, 212; to study, 243; teacher must 
supply, 243, 309. 

Muscles, of the eyeball, 70. 

Muscular sensations, 52; ideas derived from, 
53; of the eye, 70. 

Myopia, 82. 



Nerve cells, 24, 36, 37. 

Nerve centers, 31, 32; discharge of, 33. 

Nerve circuit, 38. 

Nerve currents, 33. 

Nerve ends, 32; stimulation of, 32; function 

of, 32. 
Nerve fibers, 28. 
Nerve trunks, 28. 
Nerves, composition of, 27; sensory and 

motor, 31. 
Nervous arc, 38. 

Nervous mechanism, 25 ff.; elements of, 31. 
Nervous system, 25, 27. 
Neurones, structure of, 34. 
New-born babe, mental status of, 20. 
Night study, 230. 

Objective method, 181. 
Observation, cultivation of, 91. 
Organic sensations, 46. 
Organization of knowledge, 273, 275; in 
study, 323. 

Pain, 16, 209. 

Papillae, of taste,. 47. 

Partnership study, folly of, 249; causes of, 
249. 

Pedagogy, sciences on which it rests, 13. 

Perception, 86; process of, 87, 88; illustrated, 
87,88; false, illusions, 90; training in, 91; 
relation of judgment to, 148. 

Percepts, nature of, 89; differ how from 
images, 99. 

Physical defects, 226. 

Physics of sound, 62. 

Pitch, of tones, 62, 63. 

Plagiarism, unconscious, 110. 

Pleasure and pain, 16, 209; as mental stimu- 
lus, 269. 

Practical imagination, 119. 

Predicate, nature of, 142. 

Presentation, law of, 277. 

Principles, defined, 2; of teaching, 223 ff. 

Programs, daily, 229. 

Psychology, defined, 18. 

Pure sensations, 89. 

Rational memory. 111. 

Reasoning, 150; deductive, 151 ff.; inductive, 
155 ff.; by analogy, 157; relation of modes 
of to progress of knowledge, 158; summary 
of, 159; tabular outline of, 100. 

Recency, a condition of reproduction, 103. 

Recitation, for benefit of pupil only, 251. 

Recognition, a factor in memory, 110. 

Recollection, 113. 

Reflex action, 38; in man, 39, 40; differs how 
from habit, 194. 

Remembrance, and recollection, 113. 

Repetition, a condition of retention, 102; as 
a pedagogical principle, 282. 

Representation, as a stage in perception, 
87; in memory, 99. 

Reproduction, a phase in memory, 102; con- 
ditions of, 103. 

Resolve, 218, 221. 



330 



IKDEX 



Retention, basis of memory, 100; deBned, 
101; conditions of, 102; a fixed quantity 
113. 

Retina, the, 66, 67; stimulation of, 68. 

Retinal image, 68, 76; inversion of, 75. 

Reviews, character of, 282. 

School, objects of, 10. 

School conditions, 228; programs, 229; in- 
centives, 243. 

Self-activity, law of, 241; applications of 
law, 242, 245, 248. 

Self-consciousness, 23. 

Self-reliance, virtue of, 250. 

Semicircular canals, 58. 

Sensation, physical basis of, 25; starting 
point of consciousness, 25; nature of, 42. 86; 
conditions of, 42; threshold of, 43; quan- 
tity of, 42; quality of, 43; general and 
special, 44; classification of, 44; organic, 
46; muscular, 52; of sight, 66 ff., 70; 
tabular outline 'of, 79; perception and, 86; 
as feeling, 206; freedom of, 277. 

Sense, the organic, 46; thermal, 47; of taste, 
47; of smell, 48; muscular, 52; of hearing, 
58 ff.; of sight, 66 ff. 

Sense defects, 79 ff., 226; of sight, 80, 82; of 
hearing, 81; partial, 81, 82. 

Senses, the, 44; body-serving, 46 ff.; knowl- 
edge-giving, 52 ff. 

Sensibility, see Feeling. 

Sentiments, the higher, 210. 

Sight, sense of, 66 ff.; organ of, 66; sensations 
of, 70; ideas derived from, 71. 

Similarity, law of, 105. 

Simple to complex, 259. 

Smell, sense of, 48, 49; confusion of taste 
with, 50; uses of, 50. 

Social feelings, 209. 

Solidity, visual signs of, 73, 74; ideas of, 73. 

Sound, physics of, 61. 

Specialization in studies, 247. 

Special memories, 112. 

Species, and genus, 133. 

Specific difference, 133. 

Spinal cord, 29. 

Stimulation of the retina, 68. 

Studies, variety needed, 247; specialization 
in, 247. 

Study, individual, 248; partnership in, 249; 
art of, 320 ff.; principles of, 321 ff.; con- 
ditions of success in, 323; common mistake 
in, 324. 

Subjective method, 183. 

Summum genus, 134, 135. 

Surprise, the principle of, 268. 



Suspensory ligament, 69. 
Syllogism, the, 150, 152, 153. 
Svmmetry, mental, and end in education, 10. 
Synthetic method, 183. 

Tactile sensations, 54; localization of, 55. 
Taste, sense of, 47; confusion of smell with, 

50; uses of, 50. 
Teacher, the field of, 234; duty to know the 

mental status of pupils, 274 ff., 318; must 

supply motives, 243, 309. 
Teacher's material, mind, 12. 
Temporary indispositions, 228. 
Tennyson quoted, 23. 
Theory, meaning of term, 1; hypothesis and, 

3; practice and, 3; scope of term, 4; of 

teaching, why study, 4. 
Thermal sense, 47. 
Thinking, 128, 163, 164; can animals think? 

163; without words, 163; in words, 165; 

associational, 164; in study of lessons, 321. 
Thought powers, the, 128. 
Threshold of sensation, 43. 
Thring, quoted, 250, 276. 
Time, relation to sense of hearing, 64. 
Tone, nature and properties of, 62. 
Tone-deafness, 83. 
Touch, sensations of, 53, 54; intellectual 

service of, 54; corpuscles of, 53; active 

touch, 56, 74; muscular sensations and, 56. 
Traces, in brain, 101. 

Training, a factor in education, 7; in percep- 
tion, 91. 
Truths and facts, differ how? 2. 

Unqualified to qualified, 260. 
Uses of language, 165 ff. 

Variety of studies needed, 247. 
Vibrations, auditory, 62. 
Visual signs of distance, 72, 73. 
Volition, 218. 

Voluntary attention, 96, 97. 
Voluntary action, 218. 

Will, defined, 17, 216; relation to attention, 
97; relation to physical movement, 219; 
control over ideas and feelings, 219; sum- 
mary of, 222. 

Words, relation to ideas, 141, 164; as sub- 
stitutes for ideas, 170. 

Wordsworth, on childish imagination, 123. 

Word analysis, value of, 296. 

Yellow spot, 67. 




007 585 571 



